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Fancies 


To w h i 


P a u 


In Various Metres 

. . by . . 

Geo. T. Fleming, A. M. 

[ F 1 e m ] 



ch has been added other matter, pithy 
and pertinent from the proper 
point of view 



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Pittsburg, Pa. 


1904 




LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

JUN 10 1904 

Oopyrleht Entry 

\« 04 - 

class' A XXc. No. 

%sr\oi 

COPY B \ 


COPYRIGHT 1904 BY GEO. T. FLEMING 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



3 




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To 

JOHN MILLARD LBB, A. M., M. 0.» 

rhis little book is affecHonately dedicated with the 
regard and esteem of the Author. 


•j 
• > 


PREFACE. 


Some of these verses were written ten jean ago. Some 
as long ago as 1875. The “Vision of Fate’' occupied the 
writer’s idle evenings in a strange city for several months in 
1881. The remainder of these “Fancies” are of recent origin. - 
It having been the Author’s aim primarily to amuse himself 
and engage his mind when sorrowed; for anomalous though 
it may seem, there is certainly a melancholy pleasure in 
writing of our dear ones when they are gone. 

Some of these verses have, appeared in the newspapers of 
our city under the Author’s name or mom de plume; but 
many are published now for the first time. 

In the “Vision” are set forth the Author’s thoughts, not 
his religous tenets, and he does not ask anyone to accept 
them as credenda. 

If this little collection be productive of any good, it will 
fulfill its mission and gratify the Author. 

G. T. F. 

Pittsburgh, July, 1891. 


P. S. — Since the above was put in type the scope of the 
book has been much enlarged by the addition of many subse- 
quent writings and other matter herein. As for the com- 
mercialism apparent, no apology is necessary. This is a com- 
mercial age. F. 


4 


CONTENTS 


Page 

L— A VISION OF FATE 9 

IL-^POEMS OF FANNIE 18 

White Crape on the Door 19 

The Baby that’s Gone 19 

How Futile Words 21 

Only a Baby 21 

One Year Ago 23 

That Little Pink Dress 24 

A Memory 25 

The Baby’s One Christmas 27 

Lost 33 

IIL— LYRICS 34 

A Longing 35 

The Phantom Whaler 36 

A Child’s Pretty Thought 37 

In the Sliade of the Trees 38 

Class Song 39 

To a Gray Hair 39 

The Difference between Prose and Poetry 40 

IV— SKILES OF OHIO 42 

V— IN LIGHTER VEIN 46 

Han Herl in Luck 47 

A Tale of Woe 48 

Has Happened Since 49 

20th Century Trans'it in Pittsburg 


50 


CONTENTS— Conti NU ED 


Page 

A Newspaper Obituary 51 

Society Item 51 

“The Reverend” 53 

The Paragraphers 54 

A Poetical Scoop 55 

The Leader’s Poetical Cuss 57 

The B-t-t'-l S-w 59 

An Autobiogiaphy 59 

The Interrogative Girl 60 

A Trip to Ross Township 61 

Flem Runs Across a Loquacious Man 62 

Delay 64 

Mr. Dolan’s Philoso'phy 65 

The Light That Failed 67 

The Rhyme of Smoot 68 

The Eighth Street Riot 70 

Ominous 71 

Hunting a Job 73 

The German Cobbler 75 

The Locality Counted 78 

A School Episode 78 

Way Back ’in ’61 79 

Prohibition ; 79 

In Utah 80 

VL— A GUESSING COiNTEST 82 

VIL— THE ROUND UP 84 

Ah There XX! 85 

0 


CONTENTS—Continued 

Page 

Prominent 87 

A Young- Barbara Prietchie 88 

Farmer Plem and Rex. 90 

October Days 91 

A City of the Second Class 92 

A Tragedy of the Wire 93 

The Iconoclast.- 95 

Completed 97 

A Neighbor and Friend 


100 


A VISION OF FATE 


Jiave thought 

Too long and darkly till my brain became 
In its own eddy boiling and o' er wrought 
A ivhirling gulf of phantasy and flame." 

— CHILDE HAROLD, %T6. 


A VISION OF FATE. 



If idnight^s hour long had gone, and silenoe oaha 

And breathless hung upon a sleeping world. 
Winged Night alarmed her tired way sped on, 
Shunning the avenging rays of churlish Mora, 

That soon would paoting rend her airy robes 
Of darkness, mosslike clinging close, and drowB 
Her cheerless fount of life Plutonian 
In noiseless, pulseless waves of gelid light, 

That in the brightening spring-time of the day 
Melt imperceptibly, resistless glide 
Into the torrid summer of noon's heat, 

And eve’s autumn, a beauteous harvest time. 
Anon an Indian summer, twilight flamed. 

Lights the empyrean with an aureole 
Effulgent low, in lurid glare decrees 
A winter, darkness, black with seeming snow 
Intactible, coloi less gloom, shall robe 
The waiting, weai ied hermisphere of Earth, 

As greets the rising orb the antipodes 
Refreshed. 

As hopeless Night thus fearful flees, 

The student-hermit sits alone. Low burns 
H is lamp unnotic('d. and still colder grows 
Cold poverty’s gloom, making tlie marrow 
Within its osseous walls to suf’ring ache. 

He heeds not earth; Imagination wild, 
Unfettered, Reason’s towering heights transcends 
And sportful basks in the limitless vales 
Of vast lutinity, a gleeful child. 


Pale Thouciht, wanderin/s: aimlesslj, high cm 
A terraced, moonless, shrubless mountain tro4f 
A gloom-enreloped, famine- wasted soul; 

w 

Where deadly winds of pestilential woa 
Had left him thus to die in solitude. 

Wretched, unkempt, unwashed, unfed, unknowns 
Where tidal waves from seething seas overflowed 
Fields unharvested of their cereal foods; 

Where cyclones of demoniac Fate had blown 
And leveled to a cold, unpitying sod 
The architecture of Hope’s fair city, 

Flimsy, though pleasing; to myriad atoms ground 
Unkind Ambition’s gilded palace walls, 

Which banquet halls with tessellate floors enclosed. 
Here Genius proud was wont to dine in state. 

Here Eloquence did lift her swaying tones, 

And Valor bold his glittering triumphs held. 

And Art and Music blend in sweet accord— 

The Muses all arousing welcome met; 

But sudden, woeful storm so quickly o’er 
Victims enfeebled, terror-wild, engulphs, 

Powerless pigmies shrieking loud in vain 
Who hitherto had peaceful dwelt beneath 
The glittering minarets of Hope’s Pompeii 
Of all that prosperous city. Thought alone 
Escaped the ruin of Terror’s night, and lived, 
Though death to him had been a welcome boon. 
Drifting on some friendly planks, the mountain side 
He reached, and climbing to the topmost crag. 
Hungry, wretched, gazed on Desolation, 

Prospering in her desert lifeless wilds. 

(Once, came the thought, he might have been perhaps 
A misanthrope, but of his fellows none 
Were left to hate). Ere long did burning thirst 
Upon him fasten her envenomed fangs. 

And as the waters covering fields once rich 
And fecund with bounteous glr/aming grain 
Hued golden in contentments sunshine warm. 

Were now stagnant, fetid with decaying life, 

He could but drink of Memory’s brackish fount. 


10 


Poisoned with the nauseous, qualming drippiii|^ 

Of tombless, slovrly festering corpses; 

As the mariner on the briny waste, 

A shipless, sailless, foodless, thirstful waif 
Drinks noxious, bitter, saline draughts of death 
Unwittingly, which basely mock in turn 
As e'er unquenched, he quaffs and quaffs agaUl 
With thirst unslakeable, voracious, fell. 

And gleeful gloat impatient waves when once 
Their victim in unmeasured depths sinks down. 

Adown the mountain’s side Thought wandered to 
Despair’s rough sea, and walked along its shore, 

And starving paced the barren sands, and looked 
Upon the tumbling waves. He heard the roar 
Of breakers, and a moment stood in doubt, 

His slow-expiring, useless life about 
To close by plunging in the maddened surf; 

When lo! upon the sand a fair-haired corpse 
He saw, a traveler on the ocean’s breast 
When storm-devoured by Deluge wild. 

A woman wondrous fair he gazed upon 
Indifferent. 8he mocked him with a sad 
'l l nnquility he sought but could not find. 

IH* stooped tu toss once more into a deep 
Must merciless, moulding, tenantless clay. 

When peering in her upturned face, he found 
*l\va> Hope's own daughter. Expectation fair 
With llickering pulse still warm. Didst life leuiain? 
Her cold and graspless hands he quickly clasps^ 

And energetic coaxes back the spark 

About expiring. Languid she lifts her 

Painful eyes half shut; she gazed on 'riiouGiiT, atirred 

Her bruised limbs, and tried to rise. He raised 

Her up, and leaning on his manly breast 

'lliey wept — these sole survivors of a fate 

Most mercile.ss— a Godb ss Adam and Eve 

In Desolation’s Paradise. 

Close by 

He saw a heavy laden cask. ' Twas -tilled 
With simp.e meal ground from a cereal — love, 


11 


Perchance that to partake of with delight 
They^sft accustomed were, in harrests 
By prosperity’s seasons now no more. 

Hunger enfeebled, slow the cask upehda 
With many a pain and laceration sore; 

Unheeding, joyous quickly breaks the head 
With friendly, jagged rocks, and eager lookt 
Upon the bread of happiness, though tasting 
Of the waves of woe, and of Peace’s wine 
A bottle small, yet full, and a single 
Little germ of love, that promises life 
When subsiding waters on famished plains 
Of drear Existence should at last permit 
The planting of a precious, priceless seed, 

Most unpurchaseable, though none were left 
To buy, a gem of life, a nation’s wealth, 

(A nation overpopulate with one). 

That must be watched, and guarded with a care, 
Compared with which, care a misnomer seemed; 
Though, in that rich, black loam of Hopeland’s deldf 
Love germinates in oft a single night. 

Blossoms in a week, and with a rapid 
Ripening is harvested a luscious fruit 
A.t will. 

Some days they lived upon the cask, 

The generous tribute of ungenerous waves. 

He iound a cozy cavern for a home. 

Which nestled fa; up in the mountain side, 

A living spring nf bubbling joy close by: 

And thus they |»assed the aching days, until 
A [)ro})er, trusty - pot they found, wherein 
Their source of life might be deposited 
In fond anticipation unsurpassed. 

At length they eho'e the fated spot, a field 
In former years well tilled, and justly famed 
For its production' great. They silent placed 
Their treasure in the «oft, damp earth. She sobbed 
A piteous prayer, and then thev sad returned 
Unto their dismal home. When morning gemmed 
Th’ Orient sky, a sleepless night just o’er, 

Thev feverish hasten to the fateful spot — 


There, swayed by morning breezes soft, dlfliMi 
A tiny blade was seen— ’twas love indeed, * 

Renascent, real/revivifying Hope, . . 

If to fruition full it could be brought. 

At first they silent looked , and then each olatped 
Tne other in a long enabrace. The gloom 
Was slowly lifting, and each day content 
They snniling looked upon lovers growth. They law 
The shoot into a finely growing shrub 
Did merge. Their provisions, never great, anoa 
Ran out, but on the shrub some noble buds 
Await the rising of the sun to bloom. 

And bear their fruit of life in time so shorfit. 

They could go hungry for a day, and wait 
For Hope, who only could their lives sustain 
Until Nature’s period should be full. 

Another sleepless night they pass, gnawed at 
By wasting Hunger’s demons, grim and gaunt,. 
Pitiless asecclesiast bigots bold 
In days of yore, who killed for love of God : 

And when they sought their tree of life, they found 
The air was biting chill. Hoar-frost had blown 
His cruel, fieecy breath on hill and glen. 

The tree was dead. It was their doom. Into 
Each others faces sad they speechless looked. 

There was no need of words, for looks sufficed. 

Downcast unto their subterranean home 

They slow returned, o’erwhelmed by ghastly thoughts; 

And when he sought the spring, that he might bathe 

His aching bead in ever cooling stream 

Translucent, aghast -he found it not. E’en 

While they gazed upon the tree, it too had 

Disappeared. 

k 

Expectation was the first 
To die, starving where once Abundance dwelled; 

And Thought was left alone to starve likewise. 

Of dissolution sure, approaching fast 
He thinketh not. but on her corpse inane 
Doth passionate kiss the pallid lips, 


13 


The wan and hollow clieeks, the placid brow, 

And forces down the horrid, crazing thought; 

“If thou wouldst longer than a day survive, 

Eat thou of this ghastly clay/’ O loathsomo 
Inanition I With stark and lustreless 
Stare thou drivest e’en the unconcerned 
Within the maddening gates of baneful, 

Hopeless Idiocy, to forever dwell 

Where venomed Hate doth rage, and gloat, and scorn* 

With failing strength some heavy stones he lifts, 

And o'er her raised a hurried mound secure; 

A sepulture rough, wherein the mourner 
Chief, a priest and sexton was each compelled 
In turn to be, though he were certain none 
Should thus olliciatefor him. There was 
No need of rnoniimeutal shaft sublime, 

Or epitaph well-writ, emblazoned high 

Thereon, to tell a proud posterity 

Her virtues were by no means small. With her 

Died out a race, like prehistoric man 

Of ages geologic, whose exhumed oones 

Outwit the savants of a new born race 

In vears that number millions since the hone^ 

Were life, flesh-covered frame work that enclosed 
A soul, for whose saivation’there's no plan. 

With Thought dies life itself to leave behind 
A sunless, lightless, heatless, soulless world; 

A dark, orbidess, seasonless planet, 

Unstarred, unmooned, that lacks a central sun; 

A darkling, dreary waste, destined to rot; 

A usflc'> microcosm ’mid useful worlds 
Bur round. 

With tear-dimraed eyes and footsteps slow, 
'J\ui* ring, he feeble, sadly, toilsome climbed 
Unto the mountain's brow, that he might die 
Afar fiom her he loved; impatient count 
'The hours of coming doom sure ihnf himself 
A j ickal lierec should not iio!' tomb d'‘~l'Oil, 
rhoucrl) iniH'li desiring, it he eould iioi jo.mcIu 


14 


Then as he dizzy climbed the peak, a voice 
He heard though seeing naught — “Ho! who art th<m 
That tread’st the portals direthjit lead below? 

Art thou a Faust, t>r e’en some Manfred bold 
Of poet’s dream made true? Speak quick, or deep 
Damnation taste thou of, and that for aye.” 

To the Unseen, amazed Thought replied: 

“Should I fear death, an end of life, that doth^ 

Brinir Peace along with sweet Forge i fulnesS? 

And where is hell more bitter than the life 
We base ephemerals.are compelled to live? 

Of Disappointment’s cup the faeces all 
I’ve drunk. Deglutition powerless doth 
The cup itself refuse. Reveal thyself. 

And onward move; I follow fearing naught.” 

Response came not; but on him silence fell 
So ominouslv still, and then he saw 
Deep Inferno’s realms, rich imagery 
Of poets’ brains depict by Dante great. 

Pollock, and learned Milton, yet from these vvorks 
Sublime, the then beholder had ne’er read. 

He saw the ceaseless glare of lightnings flash. 

While pandemonium’s thunder ne’er was still. 

He saw that imps fantastic did surround 
Bold Satan's throne, and prostrate, slavish lie 
In servile adoration at his feet. 

He heard their noisy, timeless, tuneless shontc; 

He heard the myriad throats e'er parolicJ m* i niieked 
In awful blasts their cursings deep and 1 im. 

As o’er them rolled chaotic flames that souls 
Did ever biirn^ yet not consume. He saw 
That tiny infants damned by Calvin just, 

A nieasuteless imnnin'iiy did till; 

Calvin, kindly soul lung in bliss above. 

Who gave Sei vetus a gen’rous fortaste 
Of earthly flame, that he might not seem stiangn 
Or ill at ease below. 

All this IhiouGHT saw 
But for an instant, then demotiiae shades 


CTnnumbered, him resistless siezed, and bam 
Unto the mistful, terror-bringing brink 
Of cavernous ope, that seemed quite like 
That holy hole in sacred writ, believed 
By man, since sired by Christian hate intense; 

Yea, nourished in the fertile womb of some 
Ecclesiast’s fierce mina, by him brought fortll 
In order that the worthless, creedful souls 
Of o hers of his ilk termed heretic, 

Might be eternal dammed, forsooth, because 
Their sublime fanaticism equaled not 
His own in rabidness, or was perhaps 
A different, and for them a damning type. 

Upon the brink the demons paused, then hurled 
The luckless Thought into the viewless depths; 

Then down and ever down he rapid fell, 

With unaccelerated speed so swift, 

Attained by strange, inert, yet timeless flow 
Electric termed, that outspeeds light itself — 

Thus down Thought rushed — eternal headlong fell. 

♦ • # 

There came a mighty crash reverberate — 

The student upward sprang unmanned; one hand 
Quick grasped the other’s wrist. Oh joy! it throbbed. 
The casement then he opened wide; in streamed 
The beaming light of broad and welcome day. 

He stupid gazed around, and }’awning rubbed 
His burning eyes. The table stood upon 
Its side, and scattered widely o’er the floor 
H is cherished lamp a thousand atoms lay. 

His book, now broken-backed, had long reclined 
Beside hia chair. He bathed his aching head 
And feverish throbbing brow, and then into 
A reverie fell, wherein lie cursed his life 
So bitter lone, untinged with gleam of joy, 

And longed that in oblivion’s gulf so dark, 

Obscure, unknelled might desperate leap and gain 


lu burial unpriested, a guarantee 
That he was nevermore to see in bright. 
And all too vivid reviews, tripping pass 
Phantasmagoria of mocking dreams. 



» 


17 


• I 


POEMS OF FANNIE. 

I remember one that perished; 

Sweetly did she speak and love. 

* * * * This is truth, the poet sings, 

Thai a sorrov^s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things. 


18 


WHITE CRAPE ON THE DOOR. 

The dear little baby is dead; 

At last her sufferings are o’er. 

The little voice still, we have sorrow instead^ 
And a little white crape on the door. 

The baby we loved is now dead; 

Her little feet patter no more. 

How cold indeed is her dear little head— 

Ah ! there^s crape hanging now on the deov* 

The dear little baby is dead ; 

No longer she creeps on the floor. * 

See! she lies calmly asleep in her bed — 

But the crape that hangs low on the door. 

Gone out is the light of the eye, 

And stilled is her prattle of yore; 

We struggle in vain to stifle a cry 

When we think of the crape on the doOF. 

They came with the little white hearse: 

With hearts heavy-laden and sore, 

They left us alone with no one to nurse, 

And took down the white crap© on the door. 

: o ; 


THE BABY THAT’S GONE. 

At evening, when home from my labors, 

I sit me at rest on the lawn ; 

Though visited oft by kind neighbors, 

I think of the baby that’s gone. 

And times through the day quite dejected, 
From noon till the eve draweth on. 

My thoughts from my work are deflected 
To sigh for the baby that’s gone. 

The dear Mttle babe that would meet me 
At eve when returned with a kiss; 

A glad cry of “dada” would greet me. 

An outburst of sweet childish bliss. 


19 


I passed by the road in the morning 
A^little shrub tender and weak,- 

One of the few* then adorning 
A pathway both rugged and bleak. 

At noon, when returned, it had flowered, 

A tiny bud blossomed thereon; 

At eve, a chill frost had devoured 
It’s life, and it’s fragrance was gone. 

Thus her pretty brown eyes closed foreyeFi 
Their soft little lids downward drawn; 

A smile on her lips that will never 
Depart, while the baby is gone. 

When we placed her so cold in her coffin. 
So life-like, so pallid, so wan. 

We knew in the future we*d often 
Sad grieve for the baby that’s gone. 

On the desert a traveler crossing. 

Two obiects will never foro^et: 

The oasis, green with leaves tossing; 

The mirage, he learns to regret. 

And thus in our lives did our dear one 
Two spots cement firmly and blend; 

Her memory, ever a clear one, 

Since Hope as a mirage doth end. 

Her bi’ief little life was a poem, 

A hymn to the Father above, 

A stanza in one word to show Him 
Its theme, and its essence was love. 

T 

I 

Then sleepless, alone in ihe midnight, 
Awaiting ^.he morning to dawn. 

To gladden the day with its sunlight, 

1 cry for the baby that's gone. 

They say in the blessed hereafter. 

> 

'riiai ]ipple> w irh gladness and song, 

There mingles the v-dee and tiie laughter 
Of hear littie baby thai's gone. 


20 


HOW FUTILE WORDS. 

• «■ 

Were you ever lost for a word 
That would the heart’s fullness proclalM 

Wheu jcsy at a hope long deferred 
Leaped sudden attaining its aimf 

01 then we can silent rejoice, 

. Light hearted and merry are we; 

No need of the tones of the voice 
To make us more happy and free. 

But how when there’s gloom in the heart. 
And sympathy longs for in vain? 

When loved ones forever depart, 

Its tremors words cannot explain. 

Prometheus bound to the rock. 

Acute were his pangs and his woe; 

How base are the yearnings that moek, 

As sorrowed we pace to and fro. 

When quick from our arms there is taken 
The tenderest lamb in the fold ; 

When left in the home thus forsaken, 
Heart-sadness can never be told. 

What sorrow is voiced in a sigh! 

What pathos is sealed in a tear! 

To wander from both though we try, 

AVe fail, and the reason is clear: 

Because away down in the heart, 

A longing words cannot expound, 

Abides there, and will not depart 

Till the frame lies cold under ground. 

:o: 


ONLY A BABY. 

A new little mound 
In the churchvard found. 

Tells of the baby that’s buried there; 
A mother’s darling, a father's pride, 
And an aching heart or, two beside. 


Only a baby, 

With silken hair; 

Only a baby, 

Wondrously fair. 

Soon warm tear drops seek 
To trickle down my cheek, 

Recalling the words that our baby lisped, 
Rememb’ring the love-light from eyes so browm; 

A tremor a pang in the heart far down. 

Only a baby, 

Lovingly kissed; 

Only a baby, 

Tearfully missed. 

A little white rose 
On baby’s grave grows. 

Purest and sweetest in manv a mile; 

Lovingly planted bj" mamma's hands. 

And moistened with tears now gracefully stands. 

Only a baby. 

With winsome smile; 

Only a baby, 

Free from guile. 

O! little one dear, 

Who did our lives cheer. 

We know thou art dwelling in realms of the blest; 
Whilst we who remain, 

In sorrow and pain. 

Pine for thy smile that shall ne'er cheer again. 

Only a baby. 

Safe on His breast; 

Only a baby. 

Forever at rest. 


22 


ONE YEAR AGO. 


^One year ago, and all my heart was glowing 
With bliss so full, so sweet, 

Thgt not one joy coaid crown its overflowing 
To make it more complete.'^ 

One year ago, and we too vvere h.aopv, 

» ou < i.i> .11 (-in’ l(iv\ 1\ . b (*nnse 

Our lidme glistered wiib the Irve-ligbt tliat beamed 

Ki-om laughing b? ighi-eyes, and echoed with the 

Jtippling i;iiig!tt< r and ehildish prattle of 

l>ab\ : happy, and hearty too, and full 

Of h»ve for us as we foi* her. At morn 

tier little love song quite oft awakened, 

And kisses daintier than the humming 
Bird bestows on tinv pistil in some 
Frail perianth, sweetened the day for U3. 

At eve, the softest little cheek nestled 
Close against the bearded face of papa 
Ami daint}’ little fingers patt« d him; 

Flayed with his glasses; put them on and off 
And cooed and laughed in truth for very joy. 

♦ ♦ 4 > 4 : • 

1 cannot think her dead. It seems so short 
A time since she was here and bliss was ours. 

M}" heart is buried in a little grave 

Beneath a rugged oak; a sapling when 

I was a lad, and hath gtown up with me 

do shelter, baby's little mound. My eyes 

Are dimmed with starting tears — they come so quick. 

My wife comes too, and bending o’er me reads 

'I'hese lines. Our tear drops patter on the sheet— 

I am unmanned — 1 cannot write. 


THAT LITTLE PINK DRESS. 


Mother was gone to a qniltin% 

An’ I was alone left at home; 

Our boy was at school, that’s John Miltoa, 
Called fer him as writ that ere pome. 

When in comes Missis Brown fer a pattern 
Of some gear as weemin folks wears; 

To find it I reckoned on scatterin’ 

An’ tossin’ things ’bout up ther stairs. 

I first went to a drawer in th’ old bureau 
Where mother kep’ sich things as those, 

An' I kinder felt purty sure o’ 

Discoverin’ it thar with them clothes. 

I stooped dovvn and pulled the drawer open, 

I was about stunned, I confess; 

For them things jes’ set me to mopin’, 

Among ’em a leetle pink dress. 

A pink gingham dress of our baby 
Who left u.s these long years ago; 

Ten years or ’leven — some more may be— 

Time don’t go a leetle bit slow. 

She was a purty, bright, leetle bein’ 

As e’er loved a father to kiss. 

Her name? ’I’vvais Josephine but seein’ 

She was cute, she got jes' ‘M^eetle Sis.” 

She stayed with us nigh on to two years — 

Pert and chipner? Wall, now, I giieS', 

An* you'd o ighter have seen her a N"e.v Year’s 
When she first wore that leetle pink dress. 

She was far too purty for this world — 

Ma ’lovNed we wouldn’t git keepin’. 

Sich blight brown eyes and suft hair that curled, 
I'he ‘membrance most sets me to weepin’. 


24 


She died— ^numony took dear leetlo tlk 

Since then I’ve had nothin’ to bless 
K)eptin’ the memories wakened like this 
The sight of her leetle pink dresi. 

I don’t know how long I was up there; 

An hour or two, sure, nothin’ less, 

When I heerd mother’s step on the stair, 

An’ I knowed she’d git on ter the dresa. 

So I shet up that drawer in a hurry, 

I looked sort o’ guilty, I guess; 

I didn’t want her fer to worry, 

Thar was dew on that leetle pink dresa. 

I hain’t very much on book learnin’, 

An’ I don’t no religion perfess. 

But naught set my old heart a-yearnin’ 

Like our leetle Sis's pink dress. 

I took to prayin' an’ eezed up on sweariAV 
An’ sort o’ got dn*emin’ at night 
’Bout one o’ them cheeiub’s a.wearin’ 

A leetle pink dress ’stid o’ white. 


A MEMORY. 

In the gloaming, 

1 am roaming 

Far away from friends and h onw 
I am sighing, 

Even crying 

For my darling as I roam. 


25 


A8 1 wander, 

D«*(*ply ponder — 

Shall 1 meet with her again? 

Sh-’s departed, 

Loving hearted, 

I can scarce endure the strain. 

Solace seeking, 

T am speaking 

Of my dear one loved and gone. 
Forgive these sighs 
For laughing eyes 
Closed forever -ah how wan. 

So far away 
From home I stray, 

Striving to forget my loss; 

Little Fannie, 

Dainty, canny — 

With me now are all things drosi. 



2 () 


THE BABY’S ONE CHRISTMAS. 


I will tell you of a Christmas, 

Of a bright and happy Christmas, 
Bright the sky as children’s faces, 
Pleasant as their gleeful laughter; 

For to them has kind Kris Kingle, 
Friend and patron saint of all them, 
Granted great and bounteous favoia. 

I will tell you of the baby. 

Wee and dimpled little baby, 

Stretcbing forth her hands in pleading, 
Longing for the many bright things 
That were brought by kind Kris Kingle. 
1 will tell you all the story. 

1 will tell you of it's sequel. 

Of the fate of little baby, 

Of the grief of kind Kris Kingle, 

Of the tale that papa told him — 

If you hearken you will know it. 

Hear the manhood of Kris Kingle, 
Children's friend for ages olden. 

List my children, list and hear now— 

On the eve before that Christmas, 
Hanging safe upon the mantle. 

Was a stocking black and lengthy; 

Tha( belonged to baby’s brother; 

And another close beside it, 

Black and silken, but quite narrow, 
Very short and not capacious; 

This belonged to little baby. 

M iinma fearing he would miss it 
Placed a placard white upon it. 


27 


Saying: “Kris, now please don’t pass this, 

Pass the stocking of the baby; 

Though she’s small we much do love her — 
This is now her first real Christmas, 

And she’ll want some toys and candy, 
D(m’t forget the little baby, 

Kindest K ris, please don’t forget her,” 
Late from slumber deep awakened 
By the prancing of the reindeer, 

By the jiugliog of the sleighbells, 

By the clinking of the toy shop. 

By the clatter in the chimney. 

And the odor of his great pipe 
As he smoked the sweet tobacco. 

Peeped I then from ’neath the cover, 

Saw him with a tree trimmed gaudy. 
Candies sweet and toys so plenty — 
Everything a boy could wish for; 

Then he glanced at mamma's letter 
Pinned upon the baby^s stocking. 

“Well I vum,” said old Kris Kingle; 
“Here’s a stocking I ne’er noticed. 

Looks so much like a glove finger. 

Miss the baby? Heaven help me — 

Am I not the friend of children, 

Patron saint of all the babies? 

I will tend t ' mamma’s darling. 

Her heart gladden on awaking.” 

Then he hurried up the chimney, 

But came back a moment'after. 

And into the baby’s stocking 
Many times his fat hand put he; 

Then upon the floor he laid him 
A wax dolly, fine and pretty. 

“Though she may not now oft use It 
It will tend to gladden mamma,” 

Quoth old Kris, and then departed: 


28 


Drove away the prancing^ reindeer 
With their silvery sleigh bells ringingi 
’Way to other homes to gladden. 

’Rose I then, took down the stocking 
That he filled for little baby. 

On the top a great red apple 
Stretched the fibres quite too widely; 
Underneath a few choice bonbons, 
Then a necklace— pearls the purest, 
Tiny ring with ruby settings, 

With a diamond in the center; 

And a golden breast pin — “Baby” 

Was the word engraved upon it — 

All these in the baby’s stocking. 

In the morning on her finger 
Mamma placed the tiny ringlet, 

And around her neck so pretty 
Placed the pure and pearly necklace. 
Proud and happy little darling— 
Proud and happy were the parents. 
Joyed too was the baby’s brother. 

Thus the Christmas passed in gladness 
And the days went onward rolling 
To the past that’s ne’er returning. 

And anon another Christmas 
Dawns upon the world awaiting. 
Eighteen ninety was the Christmas, 
With the others ne’er returning; 

In the dim and misty past ’tis. 

Late the eve before this Christmas 
Sat I close beside the fire-place, 
Ruminating, thinking sadly, 

Of that bright and happy Christmas, 
Eighteen eighty-nine the date is. 
Suchhmly there dawned upon me 
Visions of the kind Kris Kingle; 

For I heard his prancing reindeer, 


And tne jingling of the sleigh bellty 
And the clinking of the toy shop, 

And the rustling ways of Kingle, 

And the clatter in the chimney. 

Soon the odor of his great pipe, 

Flavor of his sweet tobacco, 

Floated through my bedroom spaelOUf* 
In a moment then I knew him; 

1 was with the great Kris Kingle, 
Friend and patron saint of children, 
Fair and fat and oddly rounded. 

Beard so long with milky whiteness, 
Jjittle eyes that beamed and sparkled 
With the good will that he bore all. 
First he glanced upon the mantle; 

Saw there brother’s lonely stocking — 
Opened wide his eyes in wonder. 

Then he slowly, sadly queried — 
“Where’s the stocking of the baby 
That did hang here on the last vear, 
Stocking small and dainty silken. 

Like a glove on lady’s finger; 

Little baby whose dear mamma 
Feared the kind and good Kris Kingle, 
Friend and patron saint of children. 
Would not see her little stocking? 

I would fill with gems of value, 

I would fill with choicest playthings, 

I would hear the baby's laughter. 

For I love the infant prattle 
And I love their beaming bright eyes 
When their stockings full they empty, 
Pour forth in the lap of mamma 
Gifts of k’nd and good Kris Kingle; 
Tell me where's the little bahy?” 

'Then spake I in tones of sadness 
To the kind and good Kris Kingle, 


o 

f) 


0 


Friend and patron saint of children: 

“Fill the stocking of her brother; 

You will ne’er again befriend her 
With your gifts so rich and anaple; 

For to-night beneath the snow drifts, 

O’er which speed your prancing reindeer. 
Baby sleeps the sleep eternal; 

And the branches softly swaying 
To me keep forever saying, 

‘She’s an angel, she’s an angel.’ 

Yes; beneath the sod that’s snow-bound, 
Sentinelled by oaken branches, 

Where the red-breast sings his sweetest. 
Where the ground squirrel finds his bounty, 
Where the rabbit unmolested 
Lives his rustic life in safety, 

Where the dwarf pinks bloom in springtime 
Deep down in her satined casket 
Lies the tiny form of baby, 

Mould’ring into dust primeval; 

And I’m sitting, pining:, weeping, 

And I most forgot your coming. 

You will pardon me, I plead you — 

I will never more be guilty.” 

Then across his rugged eyelids. 

Passed the sleeve of kind Kris Kingle 
That the tear drops he might gather; 

But they fell upon his whiskers. 

Glistened in their milky whiteness; 

For a moment stood he silent, 

Then in low and measured cadence 
Spoke again the kind Kris Kingle, 

Friend and patron saint of children - 
‘‘'rhough I am the friend of children, 

I'atron saint of all the babies, 

I am human in my loving; 

'I'bough I bring but joys ’long with me, 


31 


Sorrows deep on all sides greet me, 
Sights that make my heart melt freelj* 
Sometimes see the mother pallid, 
Shrouded in the coffin lying ; 

Sometimes see the father dying 
As I make my yearly visits. 

Often am I startled sadly. 

Missing here and there a stocking, 
Babies’ stockings, I love dearly 
But I cannot longer stay here; 

I will grant to brother double. 

For he now is doubly lonely, 

Crying for his little sister. 

And to you dear friend I mention 
You are not alone the sad one — 

Millions are there on this hearthstone. 
Yclept the world, at all time mourning. 
Do not stifle your emotions, 

In the calm and silent midnight; 

Weep for baby loved and gone now, 

’Tis a credit to your manhood; 

Friend, adieu, for I must hasten.” 

Ihen I heard the reindeer prancing, 
And the jingling of the sleigh bells, 

And the clinking of the toy-shop. 

And the rustling of old Kingle, 

Friend and patron saint of children. 
Then I knew that he had gone forth 
Leaving me to sad repinings. 

As I thought of baby’s Christmas — 
Baby loved and gone forever. 

Little baby gone forever. 



LOST. 

’Tis twilight; I sit in the shadows 
That darken my room as I toy 
With the kind-hearted keys of my organ, 
And my thoughts in reveries employ. 

I struck as I fingured thus idly 
A chord so exquisite and sweet, 

I paused while its melody lingered, 

And thrilled through, arose to my feet. 

Anon I returned to the organ, 

And strove then to strike it again; 

I found that my eyes had not served me, 
And for hours then strove I in vain. 
Soon a boding sadness came o’er me, 

I grieved for that melody lost, 
Rt^calling then others that failed me. 

And whitened my hair with their frost. 

In memory saw I a maiden 
1 loved in my earliest youth; 

I loved as my own little darling, 

I loved as my God — this is truth. 

My life but a short time she brightened 
Then suffered and lingered — and died. 
And left me alone in my sorrow 
That cast me adrift on the tide. 

Remembrance, too, calls np a wee one 
Whose life was to us as the chord. 
Entrancing, that thrilled for a moment 
Then lost to the keys on life’s hoard. 
Aye, lost and gone now forever. 

Little Fannie — our darling, our prize — 
She left us in sadness to mingle 
jSer memories rich with our sighs. 


LYRICS 


'"‘Fancies^ like wild flower Sy that grew in a night.'*' 


34 


LYRICS 


A LONGING. 

I’m sitting alone by my window, 

In silence I ponder and think; 

A dream of the past that is dim now 
Will pale on eternity’s brink. 

The day is so dark and it raineth 
In gloom’s pathless fen wild and drear, 

Refreshed are the mildew that staineth 
My life, and voracious adhere. 

A vision of youth flits before me, 

Gleams brightly and will not depart; 

In days full of bleakness and stormy, 

Fell memories ravage my heart. 

Far back in the years not returning, 

A fair fac^ enraptured I see; 

Beloved wiib a youtlrs fiercest burning. 
My darling, my wife soon to be. 

But Fate, ever pitiless foeman. 

Abducted my love for Death's bride, 

Unheralded, nor deigning omen. 

Deep plunged me in chill misery’s tide. 

My soul rusting nowin memory's haze, 
Envenomed, inane, void of zest. 

Aimless, e'er yearns for the end of life’s day 
To And its craved nepenthe — Rest! 

When adrift in an endless duration, 
Untrammelled, a-roaming may go 

Unsorrowed, ne’er wan from starvation, 
Unfestered by cankering woe; 

In the Dreamland, mystic, elysian. 

To wander a sorrowless tour. 

Unhaunted by phantom or vision. 

Whilst infinite aires endure. 


TUE PI1ANT0:\I WHALER. 


A LEGEND OF THE ARCTIC. 

Onrgood ship sailed on the Northern sea?. 

The whaler ‘-Gi eenland,"” and staunch was she; 

She rode the gales with grace and ease. 

Our luck was good and content were we. 

One August day in ’75, 

Becalmed among icebergs huge we lay : 

In vain for ‘‘blows” did our lookout strive, 

As anon we’d drift about the bay. 

A light breeze springs up; “Sail ho,” he cries, 
“Where away,” we all shout Aith a will; 

“Abaft the lee beam there in the ice; 

She’s been long adrift, and drifting still.” 

We lower a boat and pull away 
For the phantom ship long deserted; 

Our captain bold grasped at a rotten stay. 

And barely a watery fall averted. 

A moment more, and we tread the deck, 

And into the cabin dark descend; 

No sign of life in the dismal wrek. 

For all had come to a ghastly end. 

At a table sat a sailor — froze, 

And covered all thick with green, damp mould. 

He held a pen, and the log-book shows 
The entry he made was thirteen years old. 

“November the 14th, ’62: 

Enclosed in ice for seventeen days; 

Our fuel all out, we’re a freezing crew; 

The captain’s wife’s gone; ‘No hope,’ he sayi.” 

In a cabin b rth a woman dead, 

^ On the floor a man, a pretty boy 

At foot of stairs with hand over head, 

A huddled heap lay — some mother’s joy. 


Of a truth a charnel ship we’d found; 

V Again to our good ship trim we row, 

Our messmates with tale so weird astound 
It startles a nation even now. 

Thirteen years dead, uncofflned, alone I 
Thirteen years fast in the frozen deep, 

A secret long kept, as all must own, 

But longer by far did loved ones weep. 


A CHILD'S PRETTY THOUGHT. 

One night the rain came pouring down, 
The sky was clouded o’er; 

Dame Nature put on such a frown, 

’T was wretched out of door. 

The rain soon ceased and myriad stars 
Bright twinkled from above. 

The ruddy glow of planet Mars 
And Venus, star of love. 

Then little Bess and I went out 
Just a^ the clouds again 

In solemn mass and gloomy pout 
Besprinkled us with rain. 

‘‘The tars is all took in,” lisped Bess; 
“Look papa, at the 'ty ; 

Dod took 'em in because, I dess 
He wants to teep ’em dry.” 


IN THE SHADE OF THE TREES. 

Oh. Spirit of Stonewall immortal. 

Who dying, was heedless of pain. 

Who stood on the brink of Death’s portal 
And called to his comrades again: 

With feverish lips all aquiver. 

He speaks i i a moment of ease, 

•• l.et us cross over the river 

And lesi in the shade of the trees.” 


And far o’er the wide rolling river 
His soul from his body then flees, <* 

And fanned by the cool evening zephyr, 
ilests under the shade of the trees. 

'['he battle is won — it is over; 

I.oud pjeans are swelling the breeze, 

But his body lies still on the clover, 

At rest in the shade of the trees. 

Xow onwam ar^- the years rolling, 

But 1 hear it both early and late. 

Like chimes of a silver bell, tolling 
^ Those words of that warrior great. 

Oh Lethe: O sweet-fabled river. 

Could we drink from your rhythmical flow 
All burnings and bitterness ever 

Would forth from our tender hearts go. 

We’d sail on your bosom so placid. 

And chorus aloud all our glees; 

Ne’er drink of the brackish and acid 
When across in the shade of the trees. 

See — a nation united, contented, 

A North and a South are at peace, 
Who’ve drunk and whose hearts have 
^ lented 

When at rest in the shade of the trees. 


CLASS SONG 

w-UNlOR YEAR, BALDWIN UNIVERSITY, 1875. 

Pure as the light is the knowledge bright 
That flows from wisdom’s fountains; 

Fdrm in its might, to a glorious height 
We climb Fame’s rugged mountains. 

Strong in the fray, both watch and pray. 
And ne’er give way to so row; 

Though dark be today, with its cheerless ray, 
’Twill clear up on the morrow, 
o 

Leaving these halls, by various calls. 

To engage in our life vocations, 

Whate’er befalls, memory recalls 
Its hallowed associations. 


38 


Then don't hc rite n cruel fate. 

Aid ne'er o-ive w<* y to sorrow; 

For care with its weiodit ean'teoine too late, 
Xor i.eed we trouble borrow. 

For as sail we life's stormy sea, 

Soon must we reach the haven; 

There then may we all gathered be, 

The creatures of His saving. 

Strong in the fray, both watch and pray, 
And ne’er give way to sorrow; 

Spend in Heaven we may an eternal day. 
Should he call us on the morrow. 


TO A GUAY IJArR. 

A gray hair drops upon my pao*e 
As for a rhyme I strive; ^ 

Perhaps you'd like to know my age; 
AVell then — I'm thirtv-live. 

I pick it up and 'tis not gray, 

Ah no! 'tis purest white; 

And not thus in a single day. 

And certain not from fright. 

% 

Ah me, again; I'm growing old; 

^I feel it in my bones; 

The organ of iny mind's forth rolled 
Its gayest, sweetest tones. 

What harbinger of ill art thou 
Thou tiny silken line 

That dangled oft upon my brow 
With thousands just as tine? 

Yes, yes; they, too. are turning gray, 
Anon a silvery white. 

And in the noontime of the day 
They shimmer in the light. 


39 


riiou telTst of many pains and woei 
Of sorrows past and nigh; 

Hut Heaven above now only knows 
And keep’st the reason why. 

They're dropping one by one, indeed 
Old head, thou'rt ne irly bald! 

And though the lesson thou must heed, 
ITay do not be appalled. 

Farewell gray hair, for now we part; 

Thou hast served me many a year; 
I’ll keep a i)laee warm in my heart 
By dropping here a tear. 


THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN PROSS 
AND POETRY. 

Now every one knows 
That when yon write prose, 

You write straight away, 
Forgetting the rhyme. 

And neglecting the time, 

But having your say; 


Bu' to get up a poem. 

You've got to show 'em 
Of mind an expansion; 
Aknowledge of metre 
"Will show where vour feet ar6. 
When tested by scansion. 



40 



“FLEM/’ 

High School, ’71. 


41 



• ■■rV - . VT't. » - • t* ■•' ■ V 


Late Hon. William Woodburn Skiles, M. C. 


of Ohio. 


42 



SKILES OF OHIO. 




The 5th of ^farch, 1872, was bitterly cold. I woke 
np hungry and homesick in a cold room in Berea, O., 
where I had slept with my boyhood chnm, William J, 
Moore, who had met me the preceding* afternoon in 
Cleveland, and who had attended Baldwin University 
the previous term just ended. We had lived neighbors 
in Pittsburg for nearly hve years. Their residence was 
at Duncan (now Wylie avenue), and Davis street. His 
parents moved in 1871 to Kenton, Hardin comity, Ohio, 
and there 1 had visited him in the summer of 1871. We 
got onr supper at the Berea Hotel the night before, but 
memory fails me where we breakfasted. I remember 
going to chapel at 8 145 and on the way noticed that 
some students despite wind and weather had been at 
their pranks. On each tall chimney of the old North 
Hall, the middle building on the campus, had been placed 
a kitchen chair. It had been a howling night and 
whoever had risked their lives in clambering up that 
steep treacherous roof and dragging ladders to reach 
the chimnevs was fonder of adventure than I was. After 
chapel we matriculated and met many with whom we 
were to jiass our college happv days and not a few sad 
ones. Two brothers matriculated that day — the 
Skileses — alw^iys together. Bright sanguine healthy 
men, the elder, '‘Wood,” I know now was about 22 years 
cf age ; George his junior by possibly two years. Farm- 
er’s boys they were of good old Pennsylvania stock, and 
teachers by profession. The sturdy honest hearty 
Skileses were soon well known pupils, but every winter 
found them absent, teaching, and in those four months 
work each earned enough to pay the two terms ex- 
penses per year for they were winning their ways. $30 
and $35 per mo. were fair wages for country schools in 
that region, but the Skileses were paid $50, because they 
were worth it. At first they boarded themselves with a 
band of voting fellows from their home communitv. 

4 ^'» 


Later, however, they boarded at the “Halh’ with the 
'‘club.’' With them that term came Benjamin J. Kiihn 
of Shelby also, who roomed with me several terms later 
in our course and all became my classmates in 1876 and 
members of the same college society. The Skileses made 
good use of their opportunities and improved every hour 
of their time. While neither could be called brilliant, 
(we had no brilliant ones in our class) they were thorough 
in their work. Each was a strong speaker and a power 
fn debate and each was fitting himself for the law. 
Idiere was a bonhomie and cheeriness about “Wood’’ 
Skiles that was particularly pleasing to me and winning 
with all and we became fast friends. The years rolled on 
and the “centenniar’ class of 1876 was duly graduated 
Among them the Skileses and the writer. The Skileses 
pursued the law and established the now well-known 
firm of “Skiles and Skiles,” of Shelby. Each married the 
girl who had loved and cheered him on his way and pros- 
perity slowly but surely dawned and at length was 
theirs. One day some four years ago I read a press 
notice statinof that William Woodburn Skiles had been 
nominated for Congress by the Republicans of the 
Eourteenth Ohio District, the old John Sherman dis- 
trict. He was elected by upwards of 5,000 majority, 
and of course was then “Skiles of Ohio.” Two years 
later he was re-elected by a similar majority and had 
entered u])on his second term, and then came death with 
its sting, and the grave with its victory. The strong 
hearty man after a brave long struggle with that dread 
scourge — pneumonia — was no more. The manly loving 
spirit of William AVoodburn Skiles took its flight. His 
sturdy manhood was conquered, his eloquent able voice 
was still forever, and on that desolate wintry day they 
laid him away forever 5,000 of his fellow citizens paid 
the last tribute they could pay his remains. A com- 
mittee of 15 members of the Senate and Hbuse of Repre- 
sentatives of the Eifty-eight Congress of the United 
States were there to pay their tribute and to see the 
honor and love the citizens of the Eourteenth Congres- 
sional District had for Skiles — their Skiles, Skiles of 
Ohio. Among my cherished treasurers housed for many 


44 


years there is a bit of parchment printed in the Latin 
* tongue — commencing “Omnibus has literas perlecturis 
Salutem/' 

It is signed W. W. Skiles, Praeses, for he filled the 
president’s chair in the Phreno-Cosmian Society of Bald- 
win University, during our last term. It is priceless to 
me. I was in Washington, D. C., on Thanksgiving 
Day, 1903, and endeavored to see Skiles, Skiles of Ohio, 
but he was at home and from the day we left those old 
halls of Baldwin University in June 1876 I never 
again set eyes on Skiles, Skiles of Ohio, teacher, lawyer, 
friend. 

The law firm of Skiles and Skiles is diissolved. 
There is a heavily draped chair in the House of Repre- 
sentatives, a sad home in Shelby with the husband and 
father gone, and there is a sad heart that pens these lines 
to the memory of him, my friend of boyhood days, my 
genial, loving, honored classmate — “Skiles of Ohio.” 



45 


IN LIGHTER VEIN 


Laugh, and the World laughs with you; 
Weep, and you weep alone ” 


4G 


HAN HE’RL IN LUCK. 


The He'ii of Yarmouth 'e 
Hamong- hiis soon will be, 

Harrangin' for 'is weddin’ 

With due proprietee, 

For 'is bride 's ha Pittsburg 'eiress, 

'Om 'ell 'eneeforth 'ave to caress, 

Hand the hodds har very e'vy, 

That 'e won't work hennv more. 

Chorus. 

Hoh, Yarmy, Yarmy, Yarm — 

We don't wish you henny 'arm, 

For surely you're ha warm un 
Fland habout you there's a charm. 

P>ut hit galls hus to the core 
To think that vou've come ho'r, 

To take haway those stocks hand bonds 
Hand you won't work henny more. 

When the H'e'rl in New York landed. 
Hit's halleged 'e nigh was stranded 
Hand Y got ha job ha supin'. 

To be severely candid. 

Hat henny rate 'is he'rlship. 

Just has soon has they could furl ship — 
’E just scooted hup the levee, 

P)Ut 'e won't scoot henny more. 

When ha he'ii his hin ha ])inch, 

Hand harrangin for ha cinch, 

’E 'lints habout im for the stage 
Hand puts hit hup han ninch. 

The hadvertising' 'e will git 
Soon henables dm to quit. 

Then ha courtin' 'e will go. 

Hand 'e doesn't git the mit. 


47 


Hand has for 'is Pittsburgh bride 
'O'll soon be standin' by 'is side, 

She’s just a lovely darlin’ 

Hand not to be decried. 

’Er hold grandpop ran ha dray, 

Hin ha way that made it pay, 

Plindeed the hold Thaw ’omstead’s 
Down hon Smithfield to this day. 

N’er pop went hon the canawl, 
Hingaged hin ha water ’aul, 

Till 'e made henuf hof dollars 
For to hoverload ha yawl. 

’N when the R. R. came to stay 
Kept hon the freightin’ lay, 

Hand ha piling hup spondulix 
Hin ha most delightful way. 

Then ’eres to you, Yarmy Yarm (y), 
’Eres to your good hand warm. 

We’d like to take vou bv the ’and 
For hits you ’ave ha charm. 

For you’ll neV hint for your ’ash 
When youTe 'arnessed hup with cash. 
Hand when you don’t work hennymore 
We ’ope you won't be rash. 

—April, 1903. 


A TALE OF WOE. 

Last night I gaily made a call, 

I your prosy joker 
Upon a lovely little girl 
Who loves a game of poker. 

We talked some of tragediennes 
And some of other bards, 

And then in blest obedience 
I shuffled out the cards. 

4S 


When in the parlor door there came 
The old man slick and bland. 

“Young- man/” said he, ‘T like that game, 
Just deal me out a hand.” 

The old man was a thoroughbred, 

I oft had heard it stated ; 

Though it was time to g'o to bed. 

He soon was quite elated. 

For he one hand held a royal hush, 

Fd as good as J was able, 

I drew two aces. The girl — (> hush ! 

Passed two more under the table. 

It was no use. He had the run. 

Sequences, trips and fours 
Which from his nimble hngers spun 
Like boy's tops out of doors. 

In hard luck played and late I stayed; 

He hnally strap])ed your joker. 

This watch still ticks, but Fm afraid, 

To-day FI have to soak her. 

[1891] 


HAS HAPPENED SINCE. 

“Flem” sends in this one: 

0 light and airy summer girl ! 

Yhth freckled face and tangled curl, 

How oft we walked along the beach 
Your sylph-like form within my reach. 

When home returned U]:)on the street 
Ma chere Amy I chanced to meet 
She tossed her head, my feelings quake, 

1 realized Fd got the shake. 

— Chronicle Telegraph, 1890. 


2oTH century transit in PITTSBURG. 


We've got a way of riding — 

It’s in a trolley car. 

A swift wav ’tis of gliding, 

They’re bound to get you thar. 

For it’s scrouge ’em — gouge ’em, 

Shove ’em up in front. 

‘‘Get off my corns,” says Smithy ; 
“Don’t poke my ribs,” says Hunt. 
“Fares, please.” 

Like canned fish on the seat they’re packed, 
Cove oysters in the aisles, 

On platforms see ’em nicelv stacked — 
They stay that way for miles. 

J^'or it’s scrouge ’em — gouge ’em, 

Jerk ’em to and fro, 

“Take your elbow off my ear ;” 

“How far d’ye want to go?” 

“Fares please.” 

The conduct wiggles thro’ the crowd, 

His elbow jams your gullet; 

Anon some fellow swears aloud 
He cannot find his wallet. 

For it’s pack ’em, stack ’em. 

Tie ’em on behind. 

“All off at Fulton street,” — at last, 
“Conductor — Erin mind.” 

“Fares please.” 

When one gets off, a center rush — 

A jerk, and all are down. 

Some swears — a wait — an awful crush — 
“Both hands the strap around.” 

For it’s ram ’em, jam ’em — 

Soak ’em in the wind. 

“One minute, please” — “now lady.” 

I hope I haven’t sinned — 

“Fares please.” 


50 


Tan. 3, 1903 


A NEWSPAPER OBITUARY. 


In December, 1890, the paper mentioned herein died 
after a brief existence. This sad event brougdit forth the 
following obituary from “Flem 


‘‘The Truth” is no more. This “Truth” crushed to 
earth will not rise again — not at the price. 


If ’twas so soon to be done for 
We wonder what it was begun for.” 


The cause of its early demise was cholera infantum 
from a lack of sustenance. Vale “Truth V Vale thine 
infantile prattle and ])retty baby ways. AVe sadly write 
your epitaph : 

The “Truth” will now no more be seen; 

The paper of our cute Jim Breen. 

Although ’twas got up very nice 

The people would not pay the price. 

The printer could not live on pi; 

The typo wise must have his rye; 

The forms, alas! were badly pied. 

The pretty th’ing then squaked and died. 


Society Item. 

Among the many weddings that have taken place 
this summer we desire that that of Mr. Wincenty 
Bcguszewski and Atiss Wladyslawa Szezypacka of this 
citv be not ])assed bv iu silence. AVhen Wincenty and 
Wlady, etc., left their native land they carefully packed 
each consonant in their respective names in cotton and 
put them in the bottom of their chests and brought 
them safely to America with them in the steerage, and 
thus we are able to give them in full. We congratulate 
Air. and A^rs. Bogus, etc., on their union and take pleas- 
ure in announcine, whatever mav be their nationality, 
their children will be Americans. Shake AAdncenty. 



“THE REVEREND.” 


f) 


“THE reverend;^ 


The pensive smile you see above you’ll always see him 
wear, 

Tbis quasi-military moke who ne’er goes on a tear, 
Whom unrelenting fate decrees shall never go to war; 
Yet hit about in martial pomp a-panting loud for gore. 

In far off Iowa I’m told this bold youth saw the light. 
There frisked around in childish glee and capered with 
delight ; 

Hut when he came to Smokvtown he learned to make a 
match — 

The light and sulphuretic type then made in a great 
batch. 

The riots came- and blotted out that business in a twinkle ; 
]\lono])olists on matches fed, and then came a new 
wrinkle — 

Our hero heard of Guttenberg, the founder of the art 
Ye printers call preservative — it plays so great a part. 

Soon after at the case he’s seen a-filling out his “‘stick.” 
With (juads and spaces, thin and thick and justifying 
slick ; 

And late at night you’d often see him very sad and warm 
A-sluggin’ things with shooting stick and making up 
the form. 

Hut his fad was military, and a captain soon was he, 

’Nin the valorous iSth, he commands a companee ; 

His clanking scabbard ’round his legs in loving fondness 
dangles, 

ddie aiguillette rare u])on his breast his uniform be- 
spangles. 

AVith burning zeal, in Christian love endeavoreth he to 
bring 

In Ha])tist fold ye Chinaman — he loves to hear him sing: 
Likewise Celestial music, orchestral and so rare. 

Hop Hi for him doth render free, at the Hospital Fair. 


A long pole yoirve heard it said will knock the higdi 
persimmons, 

And these Celestials will give one unto their “Missy 
Slimmons,” 

For they’ve heard that though he learned the trade, he 
cannot make a match 

Yet maidens all, both great and small, wonld call him 
a great catch. 

He now meanders through the town and looks so wond- 
rous wise. 

As he beseeches every one to rightly advertise. 

“The Reverend” is so very good and strives hard to save 
sinners, 

WT'll bet on Resurrection Day he’ll nnmber many 
winners. 


Now since these lines were put in tvpe onr hero's found 
his “Missis/’ 

'A War’s been here — a “IMajah” now, he knows indeed 
wbat bliss is. 

W e hope his fortune’s piling ii]), and nothing e'er will 
stop her 

And we don’t mind imparting that its in Alaska Copper. 

Note — A “Gazette” typo once lan the Major’s initials R. W. A. 
together and the proof reader passed it as Rev. Hence 
at the time the above was written (1891) he was jocularly 
called the Reverend. 


THE PARAGRAPHERS. 

The funny little paragraph 
How verv oft it makes yon laugh ; 
The same thing dressed up o'er and o'er 
Until it gets to be a bore. 

The plumber, and the ice-man, too : 
The oyster in the church fair stew ; 
The summer girl doth masquerade 
The “drummer" goes on dress parade. 


o4 


While Maud leans on the garden gate 
With Charley till its very late. 

They sometimes in the hammock swing — 

He holds her tight — the giddy thing. 

He asks her hand — He wants his bride 
And all the old man’s rocks beside; 

The old man hres the soft galoot 
And throws in something else — his boot. 

The cowboy in the wooly west 
AVho never has pulled down his vest 
On tenderfoot he gets the drop. 

He’s awful handy with pop. 

The one-eyed dude doth tear his pants, 

The picnic pie is s])oiled by ants. 

How great indeed becomes the price. 

No more a chunk — a piece of ice. 

And thus, forsooth from year to year, 

Do paragraphers earn their beer. 

We wonder if they’ll ever get through 
And give the public something new. 

— Chronicle-Telegraph, 1890. 


A POETICAL SCOOP. 

One night a prize ])oet went home and after putting 
a rag* soaked in kerosene around his head to obtain the 
requisite inspiration, he evolved the following brilliantly 
scintillating doggerel which he had intended sending to 
the Illustrated Chestnut Purr with V80.30 as the price : 

My girl and I beneath the trees 
AATre spooning* in the evening breeze; 

We heard the drowsv hum of crickets. 

And katydids within the thickets. 

T) ■ 


We stayed quite late, (we 'both are young), 

When all at once there loud out-rung, 

A shriek so shrill, I knew, alack, 

A caterpill. was down her back. 

Imagine how crushed was the p. p. when he picked 
up the ''Political Chameleon” in the a. m. and found this 
beautiful stanza scissored from the "Washington Twink- 
ler:” 


"When you’re strolling in the evening 
With vour best sfirl, 'neath the trees 
That line the moonlight promenade. 
And murmur in the breeze. 

Oh, do not be discouraged 
If she makes your life a wreck — 

It's nothing but a caterpil — 

Lar crawling down her neck.'' 


All which goes to show how bad caterpillars were 
that season. It also shows that at that time a pair of 
scissors were not to be sneezed at, especially in the funny 
department. It further shows the spontaneity of great 
minds widely distant. Now^ 


When verses would come from Alex. Sweet 
A fate like his name, they’d always meet. 

A check is sent of sundry $ $, 

Another verse in due time follows. 

hen verses came from old man “Flem," 

AVhose funniness ain’t known to them. 

His verses went in basket waste. 

Their funnv man wrote his with paste. 

That’s why I never liked the "Chameleon," and be- 
cause I have learned to be "for revenue onlv.” 



THE LEADER’S POETICAL CUSS. 

Yes; poetry's motion, rythmical song, 

Which all of us read as we mosey along, 

And some o’er it make a great fuss ; 

But the man that’s an expert on all kinds of rhyme. 
Who always starts early and gets there on time, 

Is the ‘‘Leader’s” poetical cuss. 

Two hundred odd people he's done up in verse, 

In metrical cadence and language that’s terse. 

And nary a time made a muss. 

Some one’s dished up nightly in elegant style. 

And forcible language, though oft it may rile, 

By the “Leader’s" political cuss. 

An artist assists him : (his tool is an ax) ; 

The picture is glued to the verse with some wax ; 

And the artist couldn’t do wuss ; 

But the poet ne’er wavers a tittle or jot; 

He has a full hand and he just rakes the pot; 

He’s the “Leader’s” poetical cuss. 


57 


Sometimes for a rhyme he makes a great strain 
And then for a day he suffers much pain 
And has to resort to a truss ; 
lUit he always l)ol)s up again smiling and fair 
Complacent, serene and quite deboniar ; 

He’s the “Leader’s” poetical cuss. 

As a pedagogue once this poet we see 
A-teaching the wee ones their A. 1>. and C. 

And the meaning of minus and pins ; 

To pose as a journalist long did he hanker. 

And now he’s a mainstay instead of a spanker. 

And the “Leader’s” ])oetical cnss. 

And thus for nine months he’s rushed his machine 
Alore ])oetry ground than ever was seen. 

And still sliows no signs of a bus (t). 

He’ll take a fresh hitch and gird up his loin. 

The versatile, clever l^rofessor lUirgoyne, 

He’s the “Leader’s” poetical cnss. 

— 1890. 

Envoy, 1904. 

A decade and over has j^assed since the Muse 
Each dav has helped “Art” to set forth his views 
In pasquinade, ballade and sonnet: 

For indeed ’tis an art ever welcome and breezy 
Which shows to the world that verse making is easy, 
Since Thalia’s home’s now in his bonnet. 


The Acknowledgement. 

The Pittsburg Life is kind enough to do ns np to- 
day in immortal verse, coupled with a reproduction of 
onr phiz which onr Baldv was heartless enough to mis- 
take for one of Gamble Wier’s pictures of Fitzimmons. 

For the Life’s kind words we are duly grateful and 
rejoice in being victimized by a poet who proves his 
title tO' rank with Gilberts and Tom Hoods of news- 
paperdom. — ''Leader All Sorts.” 


THE B— T— F— L S— W. 


We saw him on the walk, 

As the s-w aside he threw : 

He did not seem to want to talk. 

Blit anon his fingers blew. 

The B-t-f-l, hustled down 
Xow he wanted to lay low ; 

But his wife said, “John don't go to town 
Till yon shovel off that S — 

He then went out and swore 
And bewailed his hard row; 

And the skin from off his fingers tore 
In the job of cleaning S — . 

It snowed and then it snew. 

But h's nose was all aglow; 

He took a drink — tliat was nothing new — 
And blamed it on the S — . 


AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

When for a subject you're hard up 
Concernino- whom to write — 

A poem quick you've got to build 
Wdth thoughts quite out of sight; 
Adth muses coy you'll dallv long, 
Nor bait with sordid pelf — 
Eliminate all others then 
And write about yourself. 

You'll have a subject certain, sure 
To not get on his ear. 

And threaten divers punishments 
And kee]) you tiuis in fear. 

Then folks will think vcu very cute 
And cunning as an elf, 

o 

Because you had no subject near 
And wrote about yourself. 




Perhaps you may be tired some 
And miss that limpid flow 
lambic termed tetrameter 
In common metre so — 

Yon scratch your head in wild despair 
Die Uhr is nah zu zwoelf. 

A little bird will whisper then 
To write about yourself. 

The Gen’ral is a poet true 
Who writes verse by the mile; 

And when he reads this ditty tame 
No doubt indeed liedl smile, 

To think the “Life’s” poetling was 
So unlike Richard Realf, 

He could no better topic find 
To write of than himself. 

The Christmas times again are here 
The holidays are come, 

Just pass these trifling verses by — 

You see the’re somewhat bum. 
lambics now and trochees too 
AT^’ll lay upon the shelf. 

And not wear out your patience 
A ith so much about ourself. 

— Dec., 189 


THE INTERROGATIVE GIRL. 

She was very plump and neat. 
And (juite proud was her walk ; 
She’d two lips that were sweet. 
And but a little talk. 

She could dress up verv gav. 

And T was her best beau ; 

She hadn’t much to say. 

Excepting ''Is that so?” 


(>0 


On piano she could play, 

And also bake and sew ; 

And when Fd come to stay, 
She’d murmur “Is that so?” 

I told her I’d be pleased 
To take her to the show ; 
The answer came as greased, 
She 2'ig9*led, “Is that so?’’ 

We went one moonlight night 
To see our great Expo. ; 

I said, “AVhat a grand sight!’’ 
She simpered, “Is that so?” 

I said once at the door. 

As I prepared to go. 

That two and two are four; 
She answered, ^Ts that so?” 

I did not go back more 

o 

To hear her language flow; 
I’d heard it o’er and o’er — 
'‘Dear me, now is that so?” 


A Trip to Ross Township. 

From the borough of Millvale, better known as 
Bennett’s Station, there runs a narrow-gauge railroad 
about four miles up Girty’s Run to Evergreen and 
Brookville. The name of the railroad is the Pittsburgh 
and Northern. Besides one passenger coach with side 
seats, one locomotive and one freight car, the balance of 
the road consists principallv of the "right of way and a 
streak of rust.” The road crosses the run about twenty 
times and the countv road about the same number of 
times. Conseciuentlv the whistle has to be blown con- 
tinually, scaring the horses that travel the plank road 
to Perrysville and Allegheny. But the horses speed 
away with the speed of the wind, until the wheezing, 


61 


snorting’, puffing, groaning “dinkey” catches up, when 
they scare again and the same process is again per- 
formed. Indeed, the ease with which an ordinary horse 
can rim away from the train astonishes even the natives. 
The locomotive perhaps is capable of more speed but 
the streak of rust is not, and if a greater speed were at- 
tained it might wipe out the right of way, to say noth- 
ing of the dinkey going into the run. The Pittsburgh 
and Northern Railroad is now owned by the Pitts- 
burgh and AATstern who are operating it only to hold 
the franchise. 

There was an election for teachers in Ross Town- 
ship this week and one young lady applicant remarked : 
“I shonld like verv much to have this school. It would 
be (piite handy for me to ride out on the coffee pot.’’ 
She' was a Lawrenceville vounor ladv. Lawrenceville 
young lady schoolmarms are celebrated for apt and 
striking metaphors. The A^oung lady was elected. 

S])eaking of Girty’s Run, it is noticable that the 
name kee])s alive the name of the most infamous family 
that ever existed. Is it too late to change it? 

— Aug., 1891. 

Since this was written the road has been washed 
away by a freshet and is now onlv a memory. 


FLEM RUNS ACROSS 

4 

A Lcquacicus Man Who Unbosoms Himself. 

I was coming into town the other day on a Franks- 
town avenue car, Avhen a man got on at Verona junction. 
He went forward and took a seat alongside of an old 
gentleman with a roving eye and a rubicund visage. 
Tliere were very few passengers on board, and the first 
mentioned proved to be a talkv-talky man. He began 
— to his neighbor : 

“Live around here?” 

A slight movement of the head, evidently taken for a 
reply. Lociuacious man resumes: 

“I live in Sterrett township now. Sterrett town- 
ship, you know, is just what ain’t AAulkinsburg or Pitts- 


burg, or Brushton. It's just nothing but an acre or two 
and 126 perches more or less, and a tax duplicate/’ 

When loquacious people get to talking they assume 
they are being listened to and this was the loquaciousest 
man you ever heard. 

“I used to live u|) in the Seventh ward when it was 
the Sixth. That’s a long time ago when Doc. Mackanlis 
had a long bowing beard. Hen Anglock wasn’t a school 
director, and the Sixth Cduirch had a steeple on it, 
and Prof. Dan. Holmes licked the boys good and proper 
at the Franklin School and Jerry Brush was a power and 
Bill McCarthy could see you a mile off before election 
and couldn’t see you alongside of him afterwards when 
he had two pairs of specs on. And we used to go out 
and skate on the Red pond before it broke and steal 
apples in Eaton’s orchard on Ruch’s Hill and get shot 
at by Howard Eaton. Yes, that’s what made him a 
great shot — shooting at us living- deer.” 

The listening man apparently was all interest, with 
sundrv blinks and winks. 

“Yes,” resumed the lecturer, ^T am going down to 
Saw Mill Run to get a mongoose. You know a mon- 
goose is an animal that is good for snakes — bad for 
them I mean. You know Kipling’s Natural History tells 
you about little Ricky-ticky-ticky , or some such dandy 
mongoose. My brother lives up in the Eighth ward 
yet, and he has been troubled with snakes since the elec- 
tion. I ani getting it for him. T am not pure enough to 
live in Pittsburg now. Once T was. T remember one 
tune, when I was a boy, I wanted to go down to Bull 
Run and break windows in the old Dutch church at 
corner of High street and Wvlie, with Bob Mackev and 
Chris. iVFagee and Bull Wdiite and Ajax Jones, and mv 
mother wouldn’t let me and I went anvhow, and, 
Jeemeny, how I did get licked for it!” 

The listener was a])parently all attention, and the 
talker resumed after taking* a chew of Seven Brothers’ 
boor sweepings. 

‘'Yes, T am too bad to live in Pittsburg much now. 
There used to be some fun in the old town. You could 
go down at night and see a “lady” trying her new 
revolver at the “j^rominent citizen” same as if von were 


in Givaclam Gulch, and you could go into any ''cafe’’ on 
Sunday at the front door and get what you needed, and 
you could sit up at the Penn Incline and a waiter with 
a clean white apron would bring you "zwei beer” 
when you held up two fingers. Ye-es, good times, then. 
Why, I used to walk down the hill and see Bill Peach’s 
wife pushing the baby carriage and meet Bill on Fifth 
avenue with a spanking team of sorrels and a “lady” 
beside him with enough on her to fix up an Exposition 
show case. I know now it wasn’t Bill at all. It was 
only a fellow that looked like Bill. I wouldn’t even 
insinuate that Bill would ever go riding with his cousin. 
I know it was a case of mistaken identity on my part, or 
a mis-remembrance. Bill Rocks had not been discovered 
in Tioga county and Si T. W ayback was fresh from the 
crossroads. (He’s still fresh.) And Dan O’Neil and 
Rev. Van Knowit used to exchange truthful but libelous 
compliments in print — that burned through the paper be- 
fore they were three days old. Ye-es, there were a 
whole lot of people then, as now, going ’round with the 
love of God in their hearts and the love of monev in 
their heads, doing good — to themselves. Nope. Can’t 
live there any more : town’s got too good for me,” and 
he got off at Penn and Cecil alley to get a West End 
car. 

'‘Say,’’ said the conductor to me, when he went in to 
change the register, "that old stifl* he has been a-talking 
to hain’t heard a solitary sound since the battle of Antie- 
tam, where he lost both ears ’’ 

I guess he meant the use of them. 

“Lots of fun in this world,’’ as Deaf Depew savs. 
"I don’t want to leave it; do you?’’ — Mar., 1903. 

DELAY. 

'‘What’s all that trouble down at the cars?” asked 
the circus proprietor. 

"Oh, the elephant won’t go aboard until he gets a 
check for his trunk,” said the canvassman. 

"Yes, but there is more below where he is standing.” 

'‘That broken car? The big monk tickled the hippo 
with a straw till he sneezed and it blew the car apart.” 


(U 


MR. DOLAN’S PHILOSOPHY. 


He Discourses on the Political Situation in Pittsburg in 

Spring of 1903. 

1 drop])ed into IMadigan’s th' other nigdit to see if 
there was a remonstrance against him. Strange to say 
there were many others there for the same reason. I sat 
down at a tal)le wdiere Dolan and Fogarty were having 
a heart to heart talk ; that is Dolan was doing the talk- 
ing and Fogarty the listening. Dolan is nothing if not 
garrulous and philosophical — '‘Do ye know, Fogarty,” 
said he, “I’m thinkin' its a gr-reat blessin’ to th’ mn-ni- 
shipality — th’ new adminishthration.” “It's more than 
half Dimmychratic,” said Fogarty, “inore's the pithy its 
not altogither so.” “It’s not that, Fogarty, it's th’ elly- 
mint iv Ray-for-rnm that daystinghes it fr’m the pray- 
caydin’ wans. There’s a l^eantifnl sinse iv silf-sacr-rfise 
all thr’rongh th’ new Raycor-rtlier’s car-reer that appayls 
sthronglv to yer admirayshnn. To b’gin with — Misther 
Bigalow diskivers Misther Haze hidin’ under Pavter 
Hermon’s cow bar-rim on Auld avenoo,and drags him out 
by th’ hair iv his head. AVilynm,’ says Alisther Bigalow, 
'com' down to me sanctoom I wud convarse with ye in 
privit.’ So Misther Haze thrembling’ all over loike an 
ashpin lafe goes down an’ sivin doors are locked afther 
thim an’ in the innermosht raycissis iv th’ fair-ry gr-rotto 
iv Rayfor-rnm iMisther Bigalow br-rakes the silince 
which had b’come apphrissiv.” 

AVilviim,” sez he. '‘I have silicited ve fr’m thirthv 
thonsan’ iv me fellow citizhens to ])rayside iver the dis- 
thinies iv this gr-rate city. Will ye consint?’ Misther 
Haze dr-rops his oves to dure, an’ remanes spacheless. 
'Did ye hear me,’ sez Bigalow agane. Air. Haze slowlv 
raysis his oyes with a silint prayer t’ Hivin f'r guidanse, 
an’ ravjdied with that admirabl’ coyness which has 
iver-r I)in charactheristhic iv his daysthingnish’d car-reer. 
'I can not consint.’ What follows Fogartv is a subjic’ 
f’r the arthist and th’ ])aynter. Picthnre to versilf 


Misther H'aze with his daintily fan hild jaunthily b’for his 
face and th’ indayx faingdr iv his roigdit hand at the 

avste side iv his inistache, sthandin’ there alone and un- 

•/ ' 

])rotecthed, with Mr. Ihgalow on his binded knays 
b’saychin' him to sacer-rifice himsilf f'r th’ benyfit iv a 
lono- siif'-f’rin and’ down-throdden communithv ; an’ Mr. 
Haze a sayin’ without th’ shadow iv dissimblince that he 
wild nare coiisint, consintin’. Fogarty, it is th’ sublim- 
ist spicthacl’ iv the twinti’th cintuary. Ye know th’ 
raysiilt. Misther Haze Avith th’ full stringth iv th’ full 
Dimmychratic jiarthy an’ th’ ade iv a few hundred thou- 
san’ dollars, is triumphantly aylictid, an’ by a combin- 
ayshun iv circumstances sildim sane is alridy in th’ Ray- 
corrther’s chare. Rayfor-rum is the watch wor-rad iv 
th’ day. Rayfor-rum is an’ intair’ly sintimintal faychure 
in a campaign. It is a Will o’ th’ Whisp a-dancin’ 
natelv b’fore yer astonish’d \dsyon, an’ fly-in’ immay- 
jatelv whin ye attimpt to cintralyze it. Ray-for-rum 
afther aylictin, Fogarty, sildim cuts much iv a fayg’r, so 
to spake. Shtill it’s prou-oud I am iv our imnnansipay- 
shun, fr’m th’ dominash’n iv rings and bossis. Mr. Big- 
alow, Fogarty, is a publik banefacthor, intoirly injain- 
ons who sufl*’rs for th’ pro bony publicko. I am prou- 
oud iv Misther Haze that he shud rule iv’r a city that 
has ])rojuced a Carnaygv an’ a Fipps, a George Shyras 
an’ a Phil Knox, an’ O’Meara an’ an Ajacks. Air. Haze, 
Fogarty, will be supraym. Thrue, Air. Bigalow 
may conthrive to obthane sityuashons as AVhite 
Wings f’r a few iv his person’l fr’nds an’ p’hraps 
a job as paytrolman f’r a naybor or two, but Air. Haze 
will be entoirly frav an’ untramm’l’d in th’ ch’ice of pub- 
lic servints. An ’tis well. That’s what he was ay- 
licted f’r. It’s long bin a debatabl’ quischun, Fogarty, 
as to whither antishpashun did not giv’ ye the grayther 
injymint, an’ it is with plisyur I antish’payt’ Air. Haze’s 
rule iv riotchisniss an’ good will to min. Sur’rilv iv 
layt our lines hav fall’n in plisant plasis.” 

''Pfat did ye think of Jo Brown’s raytirin’, so sud- 
dint loike,” asked Fogarty. 

^'Th’ very suddinness iv it and his ontimely death 
has SO' overcom’ me as to rinder me spacheless. Aven if 
I ravkiver me vice I don’t think I can tell ve.” 


‘‘It’s a good aisy jol) I wud loike to l^e havin,’’ said 
Fogarty. 

“It’s sordid yc ar’ Fogarty an’ silfish to say nothin’ 
iv havin’ the good iv th’ ])id)lick at heart. Itaysides its 
blackshapin’ ye’d be doin’ an’ gittin’ pnth ont iv the 
Yoon-yun. Th’ ijea iv takin’ ainther man’s jol). It’s 

snr-rprised I am.” 


THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 

One time, many vears ago there were two fello'ws 
roomed together at Berea, Ohio. This has also hap- 
pened in other places. These two fellows were friends 
and students. One’s name was Bilk There was .^loore 
to it but we will call him Bill now as he was called then. 
The other fellow answered to George. He did not pick 
the name. It was given him cpiite a few years previous- 
ly. There are times at Berea when Old Boreas jnst 
humps himself and howls, and this was one of them, 
when the occurrence below took place nnschednled. It 
was midwinter and a blizzard blew. After a good sup- 
per Bill and George repaired to their sloping ceilinged 
room and Bill lit the lamp, an argand burner therein. In 
an instant pop went the weasel — no the chimney. We 
will not print what Bill said as after the lapse of years 
our inforniiant is dubious about c|uoting him correctly, 
and does not desire tO' do him an injustice. The phon- 
ograph had not then been invented. It onlv could re- 
])roduce that depth of feeling that Bill felt. After the 
first ])aroxysm — George broke in. “Bill,” he said, “it’s 
your turn to go over town. I went the other night (a 
nice night) for oil.” Bill assented — that was the rule, 
turn about on errands of necessitv when such things as 
oil, matches, etc., were forgotten or needed immediately. 
It was nearly a mile over to the drug store where ar- 
gand burner chimneys could be purchased, over half of it 
a long bend of made road through the quarries, known 
as the Hogback, for these two roomed at the extreme 
south end of town. They got nearer afterwards. Bill 
muiTled up and went, and in about 40 minutes returned 
duly chilled, for it was a howling night. Bill had just 


67 


got deeply into Chauvenet’s old Geometry and George had 
been lacerating “The Ars Poetica," for sometime. Ex- 
aminations were comiiiQ- on, so no time was to be lost 
further. P>ill ])ut the chimney right on and lit the wick. 
More pop, vale chimney. Neither knew enough or if he 
did, thoimdit to anneal the glass even a little bit. Now 
we do not desire to do George any injustice and as we 
ha\'e not quoted Pill su])ra, we will leave out George’s re- 
marks infra. P>nt he was soon initting on his coat and 
overcoat and tying up his ears he went, he struggled, he 
returned with the chimney. It was then nearly 9 
o’clock. Pill’s wrath had been kept properly warm by 
due nursing. Again he grasjxxl the chimney, jammed it 
on and lit the wick, turning it up just a little — pop — 
crack — bang — blankety — blank — blank. It was np to 

Pill again. We will not re])eat what either said now as 
their remarks were made mainlv in unison and were of 
the same tenor, tone and turpitude. After the lull came 
that nsnallv follows anv excitement. Pill made one sen- 
sible remark. It was “George — let’s go to bed.” '‘Nnf 
Ced.” 

THE RHYME OF SMOOT. 

I^'rom the far of! state of Utah 
There came to the Senate door, 

A Mormon leader who obtained 
Admittance to the floor ; 

Idiere he listens to the roll call 
Like any good recruit 
And answers promptly when he hears 
Enunciated Smoot. 

Put it’s nay, Smoot, nav — 

ITo rhyme your name’s a beant : 

It’s very often mentioned now — 

It’s scoot, Smoot, scoot. 

MT’re sure that in the Senate 
Your continuing will not do, 

A sharing of attention 
AAith Chauncev AT. Depew: 


And when the o*entle Tillman 

o 

Gets dippy-doped, and rants 

Some folks might then (piit watching h 

To look at yon askance. 

So its nay, Smoot, nay, 

Altlio’ you’re (piite astute — 
l)iit every time we hear of you 
It's scoot, Smoot, scoot. 

And then there’s lloise}’ Penrose 
As charming as the sun. 

To him a good example, 

^Ve’d have set in ATshington. 

Likewise of Alatthew Stanley. 

You hear our people say, 

Of all things they desire most — 

He remains “in statu Quay.” 

So it’s nay, Smoot, nay. 

Your horn you loudlv toot ; 

Put every one who hears it sniffs 
It’s “hoot mon hoot.” 

You’d scarce expect that Grannv Hoar 
ould want a full fledged Alormon 
Who might with Senatorial curts’y hurl 
Paid jibes at Arthur Gorman. 

Tho’ vour mellifluous cognomen 
Entrancinglv is cute, 

AAT really can’t ]:)ut up wdth von 
Your gang’s in bad re])ute. 

So it’s git, Smoot, git, 

If you want us to be mute: 
fn fact not long you’ll elevate 
Your senatorial snoot. 

The reason to you must be plain — 

Tho’ wife you’ve onlv one. 

You have a few constituents 
AAdiose wives will weigh a ton. 


To all who read these himsy lines 
It must indeed seem funny, 

That entrance to the Senate, oft 
A matter of mere money. 

Should vei'o-e around till it’s become 

o 

A case of matrimony, 

(And a plural case at that.) 

So ihs ta, Smootey, ta, 

You really do not suit. 

You’ll go back home — here ends this poem 
You’ll surely shoot the chute. 


THE EIGHTH STREET RIOT. 

Did you hear that on the quiet 
On Eio^hth street the other nie^ht 

o o 

There occurred a gory riot 

That was simply out of sight? — 

For all those participating 
In it strictly had a hand 

In not only ‘doud” berating 

But in seeking where to land. 

For the mutes held a convention — 
’Twas at the Eighth street church; 

In which developed much contention, 
And where some were in the lurch. 

A\ hen they came into the meeting 
There was not a single scowl. 

P)Ut their kindliness was fleeting — 

Oh ! you ought t’have heard ’em howl ! 

No sooner had they reached the street 
Than nimble fingers fleetly 

Announced to all in accents neat 
That some were liars sweetly. 

A score of arms high up in air 
Gesticulated wildly, 

A few who wanted to be fair 
Reproved the fighters mildly. 


70 


So with scowls, howls and grimaces 
They were anything but mute. 

At each other they made faces 
That were anything but cute. 

Till at length one loudly stinging 
Under words you couldn’t hear, 
Just hauled off and with a ringing 
Biff — he landed on an ear. 


And then one reached another’s wind — 
Ker-ker-bang, ker biff, ker-chug — 

A clinch, a break, and then there pinned 
Two deafs in deadly hug. 

Deep gutteral mutterings arise — 

Charge, Chester, charg'e ! on, Stanley, on! — 
Another lefter, dum his eyes, 

’N down goes mutev IMarmion. 

But all things earthly have an end. 

And muties’ riots as well ; 

Then hremen their presence lend, 

A hen each mute is getting* — you know. 

It was foreign intervention 

Unlooked for, though quite right, 

For it settled the contention 
And stopped the deafening fight. 

—April, T903. 


OMINOUS. 

An e|)idemic is likely in sight at Spouse No. 5’s, Salt 
Lake, 13 blossoms on the branch there: 

h’or Nellie has a sore throat. 

And can hardh^ swallow. 

Brigham has the whooping cough — 

Still there’s more to follow. 


71 


HUNTING A JOB. 


I once intended asking' Mr. (iccrge T. Oliver for a 
iol), l)iit hearing he was in Europe I relented. [ had 
worked for Mr. ()liver. He was a Census Supervisor 
and 1 was one of his hands. We had things to enum- 
erate — to mention. 1 mean things he mentioned to 
ennmerate. At any rate he said my \vork was ver}^ 
well done. I thought he was a verv nice man and the 
feeling- wasn't Oliver in a minute either. Whv couldn’t 
he have said — ‘A\Adl, young' man, is this the best you can 
do? You are getting' monev enough. If vou can’t do 
any better, we will have to get a man in your place.” 
This would have been giving the other fellow some lit- 
tle chance. I never a])]died to anv other editor in 
Pittsburg except IMr. Alexis. I took him some verses 
— thev were hue, fine. You might believe thev were 
fine, when he actually read one verse of the eight, and 
then he said in that haughtv tone that is characteristic 
of “grate” Editors, “WTll young man is this the best 
you can do? Can vou do this every day?” T assured 
him 1 could if it didn't rain. He asked me what dif- 
ference the weather made, and T answered that it must 
be congenial to a muse. Then he turned on his heel 
and walked haughtilv away, and I never saw him again. 
True — he might have turned on his toe but he was well 
heeled and he did not wish toe turn otherwise. Tn all 
plays and novels, the hero, heroine, villain, and even 
the gay soubrette turns on her heel and T can't justly fly 
in the face of custom even badly frig'htened as I was at 
the time and make Mr. Alexis turn anv other way than 
he did. Tho’ one good turn deserves another, he did 
not re-turn my ])oem. I guess he put it in the waste 
basket. It would just be like him to do so. I had 
never met anv reallv great editor before except Mr. 
Halstead and he called me voting man, so I ought not 
to coni])lain about that, but I have white whiskers notv, 
and I knew ?^Ir. Alexis tvhen he was a very young man. 


72 


I can see him often even in my poorly nourished memory 
being' hauled around in a soap box by his little sister. 
(She is hie now.) The box was on wheels and the 
wheels very greatly approximated the squaring of the 
circle. I did not get a job there. 

Now that this is written^it looks rather tiat. So 
did my petition to Mr. O. when I handed it to the editor 
in charge of the ap])rentices. I apologized for its being 
tiat, and explained that I had therefore rolled it np on 
purpose and put a band around it. I said in plain words, 
“1 was afraid if I did not. yon wonld not perceive it was 
a roll, and for yonr Oliver." 

What he said made me feel like Tilly Taxter did 
when he g'ot l)ack from New York. So 1 went down to 
see a man I knew who lived in a boat on a foundation of 
telegraph poles, cut off and set in the ground. It was 
below^ the Union bridge in Alleghenytown. In fact it 
was a house boat on the Styx. Although a good many 
people visited this man, they were not orators exactly, 
bnt to gain entrance to the place it was necessary to 
speak easv and thev conld do it. This was another 
illustration of the power of the press and I conld not 
repress "a smile." I was told later that Mr. Alexis 
gave my poem to a man named Till Tailey. I am sorry 
now^ that I did not make information against him for 
larceny bv Tailey. I am not without hope that a true 
Till wonld have been found, and I wonld have bnt I w^as 
told Till wonld not go home and conld not get bail if the 
bailiff* went after him. 

After I came back to the city I met my brother. He 
was jnst ont of the hospital. He had been ont riding in 
Schenley ])ark and the steed slipped on a banana peel 
near the Tigelow^ monument and fell and my brother 
went down too, and when he got ii]) he hadn't a leg 
to stand on. In fact it was a horse on him. While he 
was in the hospital he told so many funny stories that 
he tickled them to death. He said he was going 
to Kentncky wdiere yon can kill a man if yon want to, 
if yon shoot him when he ain’t looking* and if he ain’t a 
Governor it’s all right. I was in Kentncky one time 
myself. No I am not a prohibitionist. I met two 
young Kentuckians. They kept very good cigars. WT 


smoked quite a few. One of them (the fellows) was 
from the Zenith City of the unsalted seas and sometimes 
he had them only half over. The other fellow was 
from Bardstown. That’s my town. I am a bard, but 
he had been in Looeyville once, and knew Old Crow. 
I was wakened iq) at daybreak next morning by a col- 
ored geniiinen pounding on my door and saying some- 
thing I did not know what. The man kept on pound- 
ing* and saying “The gemmen in No. 4, sends his kyard.’" 
“Well stick it under the door,’' said I sleepily. “I 
cawn’t do dat — open de door,” said he. In sheer des- 
peration I opened the door. I was afraid at first the 
hotel was on fire. The man and brother had only a 
little waiter, a big toddy and some ice water. “The 
gemmen sends his kyard, and says he will see you at 
l)reakfast.” I saw, he came, I coonquered my aversion to 
toddy. When you are in Kentucky you must do as 
Kentuckians do. When I went to breakfast they hailed 
me — “Did you get my kyard?” said mv fellow bard. I 
thanked him, and said I did. What else was I tod-dy-ew ? 

Speaking of Kentucky a great many people there 
who escape being shot make liquor for people in local 
option counties to drink. Most Kentuckians are proud 
of their ability to distinguish flavor in spirits of grain, 
sour mashes mostly. My Zenith friend told me an 
anecdote of two of their statesmen. They have some 
statesmen it seems. This was many years ago. There 
were two Senators whose names commenced with B. 
We will call them B i and B 2. Beck and Blackburn 
might do, ])ut since he told me the story. Governor 
Pennypacker has muzzled the press. Mr. Sam Salus and 
Mr. Senator Grady have risen tO' heights of pristine 
purity unheard of hitherto in Pennsylvania and I forbear. 
A manufacturer of good whisky admired these two B’s so 
much that he forwarded to them at Washington, D. C. 
(don’t think it was Wash., Pa.), a whole barrel of what 
was said to have been the finest flavored whisky that 
ever went out of tlie blue grass state. When it was 
tapped and duly sampled Senator B i said it had a queer 
flavor. Several acquiesced. Senator B 2 with due Sen- 
atorial courtesv concurred. Senator B i ventured the 
remark that it tasted to him slightly of iron. Senator 


74 


B 2, said, '‘No it has the flavor of leather.” There was 
some more smacking of lips and diverse remarks, but the 
liquor was in time consumed. Senator B i whose reputa- 
tion as a connoisseur was at stake — ^whose official state- 
ment had been controverted by his colleague, insisted 
that, upon the emptying of the barrel, that it should be de- 
molished and searched carefully for the offending iron 
substance. Senator B 2 fully agreed. He too had been 
doubted. The barrel was demolished ; and a small car- 
pet tack was found — just one. “Ha,” said Senator 
B I, triumphantly’ “Didn’t I tell you.” “Hold on,” said 
Senator B 2, “let me see that tack.” It was handed him 
and upon examining it carefully in great exultation he 
called attention to the fact that it had a leather band 
around it, small, but easily discernable. Each had been 
vindicated. 

Yes Kentucky is a good state to die young in if you 
have a mind to mind other people’s business ; but you 
get along there all right minding- vour own same as anv 
where else. 

Did I get the job — No — but you have found one, the 
job of reading' all this stuff and here is where I chop off.. 
In Russian Chopoffsky, an revoir. 


THE GERMAN COBBLER. 

He Is the Ward Leader for a Time and Wants on the 

Police Force. 

I was coming down Wylie avenue the other day 
when I felt a nail running in mv heel and I went into a 
shoemaker’s to get it pounded down. Yes, it was Han’s 
shop. He looked very sad like, and had two- very black 
eyes. I inquired if he had run into a door at night after 
he had stepped on a tack. 

“Nein, nein, it vhas not das. We vhas vhonce 
rooined mit Ginese gheep labor. Now cobblin’s no gut 
and bolitics vhas rooining us eferyvhere alretty. 

“What is the matter with the cobbling business?” 

“Ach, der vhas too many guinea pig cobblers — dey 
put on cement patches for zehn cents vhen vhe used to 


get a (juarter iind lialuf soles uiul heels for feefty cents. 
Ach, himniel !” 

“And what’s wrong with politics, and how did they 

affect vonr l)linkers?” 

•/ 

“Vhell, I tole von vhonce. Der vhas a nice 
sch])oken mans come in on Dienstag und he get tw<) 
glim heels j^ut on, and he say to me vhen 1 vhas putting 
deni on, he say, ‘Hans, you vhas too gut a man to l)e 
starving mit der guinea pig cobblers. \'diy don’t you 
get on der bolice force?’ Lhid 1 say I vhas not in boli- 
tics, and he say, ‘\"hell, 1 get you on. 1 am der first 
cousin to der new Recorder’s own sister and I bromis 
you der shob.’ Lhid I say, ‘llromises don’t pay der vhater 
rent und coal vhas ten thaler’s der ton.’ Und he say, 
’Vdiell, Me ester Biggelbcvv, he commession me to bro- 
cure for him alrettv a vhard leader in dis vhard to pass 
on der gualifications of der a])i)elificants und ondorse der 
babers,’ und he sav he but me on der bolice force den 
^dlen it is ofer. ‘How vhas das?’ J ask him, und he 
say, ‘You don’t need to know noddings at all ; if you 
know somethings, some fellow find it oud und das \dias 
vhery bad for a bolicemans. \diy,’ he say, ‘der vhas a 
man who got runned down bv a street gar und dev took 
him oud bei der Gharitv Hos])ital und der doktors feexed 
him oop und dey took his ])rains oud und vhashed oud 
his head mit a garten hose und den ])ut dem prains back 
in» und binned dem in mit zehn bennv nails und he got 
gured all right und he vhas a gut bolicemans.’ ffsh dat 
so?’ 1 say, und he trink s*x of mv beers und say how 
vhas beesiness, und I dell him der guinea pig cobblers 
vhas killin’ it, und he say, Adiell, I make you der vhard 
leader und you shall have a sign in vour vhindow/ und he 
make me dat sign und it sav, ‘Flans Roggenbrod, Vhard 
Leader, der Citizens Bartei. Applifications for Bosi- 
tions Ondorsed Hier,’ und he give me a let haluf thaler 
und go oud. T vhas so^ oxcited alretty.’’ 

“Well, what then?” 

“Vdiell, bei und bei a man comes in und he say, 
‘You vhas der vhard leader, vhas you?’ und I say, ‘Dat 
vhas me.’ Und he says, ‘Vhell, Cobbler, you can put 
haluf soles und heels on dese shoes und yust ondorse dis 
applifications. I come Samstag.’ Und I write on it. 


'Mr. Haze — Yot Kay. Hans Rog-«en])rocl, Vhard 
Leader,' und he go oiid. More as dwenty beeples come 
in iind get der applifications ondorsed und dey all 
leaves shoes vhich dev vhanted mended rio;ht avhay 
kvvick und cement j^atches, und I have to g*et der g'uinea 
pig col)blers to helup me, und bav dem cash on deliveries. 
I vhas so l)usy. 

“Ah, I see. Quite a stroke of business for you." 

“Yah, it vhas a baralitie sdroke. I find meinself oud 
dabei. Der next dav der comes in a colored man mit 
a dimpled chin und fire in his eye und fire wasser in his 
breathe und he had on shoes mit do])pol deck soles und 
vhite ])laid pants und a dirtv shirt und a ])rown vhest 
mit a ret neo'tie und he sav : 

o 

“ ‘Cobbler, vou vhas der vhard leader vhas you? 
You vhas some liars. I am Sam ('iuml)o; I am der vhard 
leaders. You couldn't leed der calf l)ei der tail.' Und 
mit dat he ])icked oo]) a hair of shoes vhitch 1 had just 
lialuf soled und he liit me on der ko])f und T g‘o avhay 
back amono- der himmel-strahlende stern und sit down, 
und vhen J ^"ake oop dose shoes vhas ^one und I have to 
pay der owner two thaler und a haluf." 

Hans let out a g'reat sig'h and pounded heavily. 

^'Too bad, too bad," said I. 

'‘Yali, yah; sehr schlect,” repeated Hans in his ver- 
nacular, “but der vhas more alretty. \dien my vheib 
^■et dene ru1)1)'ng^ limeseed oil on my head she go oop 
stairs und in comes a nice man mit q-oose crease on his 
hair und his coat tails vhas too lonq^ for his nose, und he 
say, ‘So helup me .qracious. Now you vhas a eland}' 
vhard leeder, vhasn’t vou? You couldn't lead der spar- 
row. 1 vlias A1)e Kol)elinskinskisky. I vhas der man, 
der Moses, who vhas commeessioned by Meester Lav- 
heen to lead der Hebrew children oud of der bondaqe of 
Efiflinn. 1 show^ you you vhas some humbuqs. T see 
Mr. Fulton a couple of times meinseluf.' Und he go oud 
und slam mein door so hard he break der vhindow und it 
costs me more ash two thaler to get feexed. 

"Poor man," said T sympathetically. 

"Ah, der vhas more yet. Pretty soon der comes in 
a biq' man und I see riq^ht avhav der vhas blood on der 
moons. He have a nose like a ret lantern und a jaw 


like a bull’s pup terrier. He have no gloves on, and he 
say mit fierceness,’ ‘I was Patsey Mulcahey der com- 
mon scoundrelsman. Plnd I say, ‘Oh you vhas a com- 
mon scroundrel. Eh, vhell, vhat you vhant.’ 'Und he 
go on: ‘You vhas der vhard leader, vhas you? You 

Pomeranian eembacile. (I don’t know vhat das vhas.) 
You go leadin’ around dis vhard und I poke you in der 
slats und put your face in mourning,’ und den he hits me 
fife times in nineteen blaces und I don’t know noddings 
till dat fat boliceman on der beat brings me arount by 
throwing der bucket of wasser on me, in vhich I have 
soaked mein haluf soles for drei months, und he say: 
‘Hans, vou \dias some fools as l)ig as Chumbo,’ and he 
called my vheib und she say, ‘Hans, you alvhays 
vhas ein grossen fool vhonce,’ und I say, ‘Yah, der peo- 
])les told me dat vhen I vhas married,’ und she goes oud 
mad as any dings und vhon’t put no wieners in mein 
krout und she ])uts more as a quarter of a quart of salt in 
mein beer. Aber none of dose fellows vhat gets der pe- 
titions ondorsed vhil bay me for fixin’ of der shoes. Dey 
all say I vhas some humbugs und dev vhill go arount by 
Squire Connover’s und sue me for false bretenses. I 
guess I go me und see Mr. Murray Hill Vherner und 
give up dat bol iceman’s beesness und go me for a vhito 
vhings mit der guinea pigvS.” — Mar. 1903. 

THE LOCALITY COUNTED. 

E. Z. Street — “Helloa ! Harduppe, what’s the matter 
with you? You look worried.” 

Harduppe — “I am. The sheriff is about to sell all I 
possess.” 

E. Z. Street — “Cheer up old boy. Take courage. 
Caesar was once five millions in debt.” 

Hardu])pe — “Yes, I know, but he had Gaul.” 


A SCHOOL EPISODE. 

Scene, Salt Lake School. Teacher, “Why Reedy 
Smoots, you have a black eye, you have been fighting, 
your clothes are all torn and dirty ; explain now.” 

Reedy, “Why, boo-hoo, Josy Smith took my apple 
and I swi])ed him and I was adoing him up, when sev- 
enteen of his brothers jumped in and put me to sleep, 
boo-hoo.” 



“ ’Way Back in ’61” 


PROHIBITION. 

Man in Podiink 
Very ill 

Scoots to doctor 
For a pill. 
Bonder blitzen ; 

Doctor’s ont. 
Patient quickly 
Starts to pout. 

In the corner’s 
To be seen 
Nicely letter’d 
New machine — 
^Tn the slot 

Drop your coin, 
Pull the lever, 

Then be goin’ ; 
There’ll come out 
A little slip 
Tliat will pass for 
Doc’s prescrip.” 
In the slot he 
Drops a quarter 
Then goes out and 
Gets his snorter. 


79 


IN UTAH. 


I dreamt I was a Mormon 
Raisino- a Mormon band, 

With kids like bees a swarmin’, 

My five wives close at hand, 

That I would every evening- 
AVith my little printed list. 

Just call the roll of tender buds 
And see that none were missed. 

One day when I was plodding" 

Along through Salt Lake town 
A lady came up nodding — 

‘On her I could not frown. 

Says she — “Old man T want to know 
AA^'hen I’m to get that hat? 

If it don’t come by noon to-day 
There’ll be a monstrous spat.” 

I turned into another street — 

From school the children come 
Some tw^o score Smithlets now I meet, 
They surely make things hum. 

A tender A'oice says — “Hello Pa 
(I can’t locate the chap.) 

There must be more of mine at hand. 
They whis])er — “Yonder’s Pap.” 

The other night I took a stroll 
And called on No. 4; 

She used to be a loving soul — 

She met me at the door. 

At B above she pitched her voice, 

Says she — “You wretched sneak. 

My eyes have not got sot on you 
For much more than a week.” 




80 


And when at last I got away 
I did so in great glee, 

Remembering I was due to stay 
At Edna's, No. 3. 

But there I found them much disturbed. 
And Edna’s voice did quaver. 

And then there went up all at once 
A howl from each voung shaver. 

Eor Johnny had the toothache, 

Matilda had the croup, 

Tommy had the measles, 

And Ned got burned with soup; 
Maria ’ud like to have a beau, 

Jen most choked on a pickle; 

And every mother’s brat of them 
Cried — “Pa, give me a nickel.” 

And on the dav that followed 
I met Julina true; 

She smiled aaid at me hollowed, 

“Em looking dear for von : 

The flour's quite low in the sack. 

And of mv flock, eleven. 

To-day you’ll have to get me shoes 
Eor all that’s under seven.” 

You see that Em a busy man — 

No busier in the nation — 

And I have done the best I can 
To increase the population. 

The measly Senate goes for Smoot, 
Thev want to put me through, 

But V\\ keep on a loving five 
And my cherubs 42. 


SI 


GUESSING CONTEST. WHO? 





YouVe made a g'ood conjecture — 

They did not love each other when 
Each looked pleasant for a picture. 
The years between are more than ten. 




SAME HERE. 



In Heaven the match was made [of course] 
And when she dropped the title, Miss 
And Art their features had portrayed, 
Thev very much resembled this. 


s: 


) 




THE ROUND UP 


The dessert is not the least inviting of the meaf tho^ 
you may not he so hungry. 


SI 



AH THERE, XX. 


In his hiig'e and hairy hide, 

And his pharynx opened wide, 

Hear him howl, 

When Dakota’s ri])])line blizzards 
Are a freezing- all the gizzards 
Of the fowl. 

By me sowl. 

Like an owl 

He’s a toiler in the night. 

By the glare of the bright light — 
iMany pecks 

Sells this humming, humming hummer, 
This gay and liyely drummer — 

‘ XX. 


So 


Though the rain comes down a-pouring 
And the wintry winds are roaring, 
Stands he there ; 

Calling loudly for the nickels 
From those that a cough tickels 
As a hair. • 

Hear him roar 
To the sore 

And measley racking coughers 
His kind and constant offers 
Of those drops ; 

And louder, louder, louder, 

Like a crack of giant powder — 

How he hops. 

When the snow is flying frisky, 

And the boys are drinking whiskey, 
Tom and Jer, 

When the crowds come out a-sweeping 
And the lO'Vers homeward creeping, 
(The-a-tre) 

You will hear 
In vour ear 

Ring a loud discordant metre, 

You will see him stop and treat her 
To a few ; 

And though they often lack age 
They are only ‘‘five a package,” 

And they’ll do. 

In his great robe of buffalo, 

He bids defiance* to the blow 
Of the wind ; 

Though dogs go up and bark 
At this creature in the dark. 

He don’t mind — 

Just the same 
Slick and game 




S6 


You will hear his deep bass swinging 
From his rosined throat a-ringing. 
Double X. 

And higher, higher, higher. 

Than the tall Cathedral spire, 

“Who’s the nex’?”’ 

Then this genial cough drop fakir 
And agile nickel taker 
With one leg. 

Just keeps on a-roaring, ranting. 
Though his good right leg is wanting 
He has a peg 
He’s true blue 
And will do ; 

Though he ever works his jaws, 

His heart is in the cause — 

More’s the fun. 

Many pounds we hope he’s selling 
With his yelling, yelling, yelling, 

Or-a-ton. — 



PROMINENT. 

Don’t juni]:) at conclusions because of that hat. 

I’m sure it’s a tile still in style. 

’Tis a banker that wears it who knows where he’s at 
In o^uessinof some time now beguile. 


S7 


A YOUNG BARBARA FRIETCHIE. 


When the Hoosier meadows were rich with corn 
There floated one day in the early morn. 

From a Hoosier school house, trim and neat, 
Where daily pattered some litte feet, 

The flag of our nation — each azure fold 
And silvery star that a story told — 

Our honored emblem — though bunting cheap. 
Yet all the fruits of its glory reap. 

Yes, the flag was bunting, the staff not tall, 

And both were bought by woman small. 

Who taught that school in the country down 
About four miles from Ladoga town, 

In Montgomery County, near Crawfordsville, 
And we’re proud to say there teaches still. 

The flag had not long in the sunlight smiled. 
Till it traitors angered, and feelings riled. 

‘‘No shade of sadness or blush of shame 
Over the face of their leader came.” 

But straightway went that trait’rous band 
And trampled the emblem of the land ; 

And tore the bunting from the staff 
Then shrieked a mocking, scornful laugh. 

k p rose Emma Conner then 

Whose pa had fought ’gainst Jackson’s men; 


88 


Who nailed the flag on her school house door; 

''Just touch my flag, and there’ll be war.” 

With red-flushed cheeks and threatning frown — 

"ril shoot the man who tears it down.” 

Hurrah ! for the Hoosier schoolmarm, dear ; 

Hurrah ! for the girl who showed no fear. 

Who the nation’s pulse from her humble station 
Set throbbing again like all tarnation ; 

Which rose up then in its righteous might 
And gave those scroundrels a dreadful fright. 

An excuse they gave — "They didn’t know 
Their country’s flag from a bag of tow.” 

God help those ignorant country Jakes 
To learn for those brave heroes’ sakes, 

Who for that flag have fought and bled 
And got chuck full of Southern lead. 

A banner of silk now proudly beams 

From that school house door with its golden gleams. 

And the fame of Emma is wide and far, 

And she’s solid you bet with the G. A. R. 

Pittsburg "Mechanics,” too, took a hand. 

In spreading her glory through the land ; 

And Vine Cliff Council gave a lift 
With a pretty badge as a Christmas gift. 

Three cheers for Emma — the Red, White and Blue, 

And the boys of the nation who’ll see her through. 

— 1891. 


8 ^) 



FARMER FLEM AND REX. 

New Plorence, Pa., 1896, 

Rex canis bonus erat, et ante 
Idem Tan. M CM III obiit. 

Nunc Regem acriter numquam 
In nocte audiam latrantem : 

Videbo non suum gaudium 
Et caudam laete agitantem. 
Rex-Quiescat. 

Dear reader skip this. It is pedantry. 


. 90 


OCTOBER DAYS. 


The candidate now sets it up, 

To gather in the votes. 

Each bummer drains a foaming cup 
And muchly feels his oats. 

The farmer goes to the county fair 
With pumpkins wondrous great; 

His gray boss wins by a single hair — 

He goes a four-minute gait. 

The hammock lone in front yard swings, 
The lovers sit by the fire. 

She likes to hear him speak of 'Tings” 

But is thinking of the lyre. 

Each sportsman takes a nip of rye. 

Then uttereth loud a whoop. 

The agile squirrel prepares to die 
And pasturize the soup. 

The Exposish is opened wide. 

The popcorn belles are there. 

The nuptial knot is daily tied. 

There’s music in the air. 

New-spliced ones sit on benches, soft; 
Entranced by the music grand 
They silently gaze at the flags aloft — 
Some holding a beautiful hand. 

Now do not think it’s poker I mean — 
This verse no such news imparts, 

But some one has surely drawn a queen. 
And there’s more than one flush of hearts. 


91 


A CITY OF THE SECOND CLASS. 


There is a cit. called Alleghen, 

It’s just across the riv. 

There some folks dwell within a Pen 
But most in houses live. 

One time at night if you sought this town 
You wouldn’t have long to try. 

You just looked up instead of down 
It’s lights were in the sky. 

They have a library like ours, 

And cool and sunny parks, 

Where nurse girls pass some festive hours 
Since they’re there free from sparks. 

For a hotel that is first class 
In which you’d some time live, 

You’ll have to take a car, alas! 

They’re all across the riv. 

If likewise to a show you’d go, 

You’d have to take a sieve. 

And then not find a thing you know ; 
They’re all across the riv. 

This cit. once had a daily pape. 

The owner had the blues 
Because things took on such a shape 
Folks wouldn’t take “The News.” 

And then as we did greatly fear, 

It perished in its youth. 

And there has passed by many a year 
Since it went after “Truth.” 

So now when you desire a pape. 

To read about a midge 
A cent from out your small change scrape 
And then you cross the bridge. 


A TRAGEDY OF THE WIRE. 


In the office, Vladovostock, 

Were all telegraphers boss stock; 

Each one hard holding down his wire, 
When in came s])ecials by the quire; 
Reports long and governmental 
Told each his energy should spend all; 
Specials rushed to Nichaelovich, 

(Tzar and tyrantidonovich,) 

And great General Kuryoupatkin, 
Oiestiff Dunnovereesatkin. 

For there’d been another battle; 

The casualties are being sent. 

You should hear his sounder rattle 
As O^’Brien o’er it bent. 

Never sending out the good Alorse 
That improves conditions mental, 

But a code that makes one swear hoar 
The dodgasted Continental. 

And the sounder thus it sedsky, 

These were killed completely dedsky : 

T u r n t h e k n o b s k y , 

T h i n gu m b o b sky, 

Jim Y man sky, 

Russ Thekansky, 

Generals all with Popemoff. 
Kazan Swajatopolskvuski, 
Sevenupsky, Allthenewski, 
Sergius, grand duke of Winooski 
Aids to General Stopakoffi. 

These were wounded nice and easy, 
And in ways quite Japaneesy: 

Souermashsky, Livon Hashsky, 
ogner Oudatdehomplatsky, 


98 


Prinzin Offisetdefatsky, 

Ivan Zunetoshoveloff, 

Teezer Bobbymarjiovitch, 

Bille Bownskipolarbarevitch, 

Michael Johann tearishairvitch, 

Vladimir, Count Bobsledoff. 

Many privates tho’ they’re countless, — 

Japs could have made the amount less: 

Mason Simondothekopsky, 

Alexander Neverstopsky, 

Shoodthehatsky, Katzacabbitch, 
Brakethebatsky, W elsharabitch, 
Ansoforthsky, Etceterowsky — 

Till each sender’s quite bughowsky. 

Some were shot right through their whiskers, 
Through their huge beards Muscovitich 
And the Cossacks’ steeds were friskers. 

When in situations tightish ; 

So the little Japs just plunked ’em; 

Knocked their consonanted names highskysky ; 
Smashed and mashed in fact quite junked 'em. 
Sent their owners byanbysky. 

All night long' sat poor O’Brien 
To do his best he kept on tryin’; 

Since at Lunnon he was speedy 
When he wasn’t quite so needy 
Banged out forty words a minute. 

Sounder flving like a linnet. 

But when relief came in morning 
Kalmuck-Tartar names then scorning. 

From his chair he rose up sadly. 

His right arm was paining badly. 

Later turned then into palsy. 

Thus intO' misfortune falls he. 

And his busy brain went dopesky — 

Soon in madhouse Avithout hopesky. 


94 


THE ICONOCLAST. 


Side Lights on Some Phases of Twentieth Century Civ- 
ilization. 

A few clays before this was written, in March, 1903, 
three civilized beings, in Los Angeles, Cal., held up a 
trolley car in order to obtain a little ready money. In 
the furtherance of this ordinarily nefarious, but common 
method of making a raise, the robbers found it necessary 
to kill an inoffensive passenger and drop his bleeding 
body in the lap of his aged and invalid mother. Other 
passengers were desperately wounded. The robbers 
were finally driven off* by a nervy passenger who m>ade 
good use of a revolver he had with him. The United 
States government spends large sums of money in main- 
taining* a constabulary force in Luzon, P. L, and is mak- 
ing* frantic efforts to stamp out ladronism among natives 
civilized before we were. Horror pervades us at the 
mere mention of a Boxer. W e are still trying to con- 

vert them, while our ruffians at home are neglected. Im- 
provements in small arms, and low prices have made 
murders common, cheap and comparatively safe. See 
the court records as to this. Human lives are snuffed 
out daily in mere wantonness, the tedium of which is 
occasionally relieved by a scandal in high life — only one 
commandment is usually broken by such a scandal, but 
when two are damaged beyond repair the affair is usu- 
ally copyrighted in a dime production to be read by the 
pure at bed time in the privacy of the bed chamber, with 
the doors locked. The book is then dramatized and 
helps elevate the stage. 

Brookville, Pa., is the hill topped metropolis of Jef- 
ferson county and as such develops lofty ideas. The 
burgess recently refused a license tO' that master combin- 
ation of insipidity, drivel and rot known as “A Des- 
perate Chance,” a production wherein crime is thinly 
glossed with a veneer of sickly sentimentality, and mur- 


der and carnality elicit the thunderous applause of ap- 
preciative throngs, and the law exemplifying right is 
thoroughly hissed. The burgess of Brookville is surely 
a bird ; that is a rara avis. Analyzing his refusal two 

conclusions can be drawn. First, a moral one. The 

other conclusion is wholly sanitary. Puke is a good 
English. But why go on? Is not the word sufficient- 
ly suggestive ? Shakespeare used it. 

A few years ago I had the misfortune to break an 
arm which necessitated my going from this busy city 
to the quiet of my rural home. It was on a Saturda}^ 
that I boarded a street car with a heavy satchel^on my 
way to the depot. The , car was crowded. They are 
seldom otherwise. I hung on to a strap and straddled 
mv grip. Every stop and start gave me a wrench and 
a jolt that brought me that intense pain only those who 
have had a like misfortune can know. Lovelv women 
in the bloom of young maidenhood, and the ripeness of 
lengthening years gazed at me with pitying eyes. 
Strong men glanced at me sympathetically, but all kept 
their seats. Some read papers, others I know were 
thinking of their Sunday school lesson for the morrow. 
If any were thankful they were not as other men, I could 
not see it. To me all were alike. The moral is plain : 
Don’t break vour arm. If vou do — hire a cab. 

Henry Berg was once a common name in the papers. 
I think he is dead. He was a humanitarian and the 
instigator of humane societies now common. A* kind 
Providence has forbidden him the sight of a crowded trol- 
ley car. Laws have been passed regulating the transpof- 
tation of poultry and live stock, avoiding close packing 
and providing for comfort and safety. They are gen- 
erally observed. The transportation of people is un- 
restricted, and is not attempted. Why should it be? 
Are they not after all only people? 

Some years ago ^Svhen baby died,’ ’ in passing through 
the market I was attracted by a small white rose bush in 
bud, which I purchased and taking it to the cemetery, 
planted it on her little grave. A few days after I took 
my wife along desiring to surprise her, for she would not 
think of a man doing such an act. But there was no 
rosebush. I consulted Sherlock Holmes in my mind, 

91 ) 


/ 


and this is what he told me. “Few men go to grave- 
yards and prowl around. They are too busy and men’s 
tastes don’t run that way. A spirit of wantoness would 
have shown the destroved bush in the immediate vicin- 
ity. An oce^sional g'iddy one might have plucked the 
flower for a boutoniere, but root up — never. Some 

loving woman must have taken the plant to put on a dea^* 
one’s grave. Buy another and chain it down.” But I 
did not. I put a border of myrtle and some cinquefoil in 
the center. The one in the language of flowers signi- 
fying love, the other maternal affection. They stayed. 
They are too cheap to steal. 

But was the rose expensive? Yes indeed, it cost 
fifteen cents. 

Hypocrisy is becoming rare — in graveyards. If La 
Rochefoucauld were living now he would have to work 
overtime. 

A\dien iconoclasts confine their remarks to glittering 
and polished g'eneralities, they are esteemied. When 
they becoiiie personal, the coroner gets busy. 

Iconoclasm is rare and cannot be said to be really 
popular. We love our idols — otherwise we should be 
heathen. 

P. S. — At this writing all is quiet in Samar. News 
from some nearby town will probably come on “the last 
tick of the wire” sufiflciently lurid and late enough to 
warrant getting out an “exter.” 


COMPLETED. 

Finis is the end. 

In truth the end fine is ; 
Note the end you’ll find is 
Intended and the fine is 
Severe, you may deep-end. 


I 


97 


\ 





RICHARD CANNON, 
P. C. H. S., ’71. 




98 




Semper Idem. 

With poor footwear I had been stuck, 

\^dien all at once came streak of luck — 

A friend’s advice, it wisely ran on, 

^‘Henceforth you’ll buy your Shoes of CANNON.” 

’Way hack, that was in ’68, 

And now I cheerfully can state. 

There all my shoes I since have bought. 

And not a poor one in the lot. 

In style and workmanship c mplete. 

In best of makes he’ll dress your feet; 

They fit so well they never lame us. 

And for wear indeed they’re justly famous. 

UP-TO-DA TE SHOES 

CANNON’S 

NOW AT 532 SMITHFIELD STREET 

38 vears in business. 


L. of C. 


99 



A Neighbor 27 Years — 

A Friend Always 

This space is given now to a Ford, 
A friend to linger near; 

A shake of hand, a hearty word — 
He ever greets with cheer. 


100 


The Good Pies. 

Two friends of mine I have in mind, 

Who make these things, the proper kind; 
Their product’s such a savory treat 
That all who buy with gusto eat. 

“ Oh, yes Ave know,” now someone cries. 

The makers of those famous pies.” 

The Fit to Eat Pies 

The ones whose goodness never varies 

That alone are made bv DUSENBERRYS. 

« ' 

For sale by 

Grocers and Restaurants 


101 



A. SCHUYLER, PH. D., L. L. D., 

OF SALINA, KANSAS. 
Ex=President Baldwin University. 



102 


A HABERDASHER! 


If you need a new tile, 

Collars, gloves, or a shirt, 

Each in up-to-date style. 

Then to you ITl assert 

For good values in furnishings 
That are both new and neat. 

Just hie you at once to 

202 SMITHFIELD STREET. 

MAGILL AND LANG 

HATTERS ct FURNISHERS 


STATIONERS PRINTERS 

LOOSE LEAF SA'STEMS 

A SPECIALTY 


A. W. McCLOY & CO. 

()3() Liberty Street 

PITTSBURGH, PA. 


Bell, 1728 Grant 
P. A A. 613 Main 

■ E N G R A \ ^ E R S BINDER S 


THE PITTSBURG LIFE 

Published every Saturday by 

SCOTT DIBERT 
BOOK AND JOB PRINTER 

1507 FORBES ST., PITTSBURGH 

ONE DOLLAR PER YEAR, POSTPAID, TO ANY "AIiDRESS 

All The K. of P. and Uniform Rank News Sample Copv Free 

TELEPHONE, P. A A. 1165 MAIN 
“FLEM”— Contributor and Associate Editor 14 A'ears 

1 03 





BALDWIN UNIVERSITY, BEREA, O., IN 1872. 

Ilulet Hall on left still standing. The site is now a stone qnarry. 



WM. G. JOHNSTON & 00. 

PRINTER.^ 

Penn Ave. and 9th Sts., Pittsburgh, Pa. 


LOOSE LEAF SYSTEMS BLANK BOOK MAKERS 

CARD INDEX SYSTEMS STATIONERS, BINDERS 


Established 1842 

Pittsburg Iron and Wire Works 

TAYLOR & DEAN 

1 

Manufacturers of 

Ornamental Iron and Wire Work 

ARTISTIC GRILL WORK 

In Iron and Brass 

Fencing, Cresting, Iron Stairs, Iron Beds, Stable Fittings, Iron Shutters 
and Cellar Doors, Elevator Enclosures, Nursery Fenders, 

Fire Guards, Riddles and Sieves, Wire Doors and 
Window Screens, All kinds of Brass 
and Iron Wire Cloth 


Fire Escapes 

Automatic levator Gates 
Automatic Fire Extinguishers 


OFFICE AND WORKS 

20 1 to 205 Market St., 

PITTSBURGH, PA. 


> 



flr * «*^*\** *** *• 'V* • 


|‘»i%%V*VAV%V%vX*V>V**‘*' 

rJ!‘l 


HON. JOHN BALDWIN. 

( “UNCLE JOHNNIE”) 


Founder of Baldwin University.* 

Born 1799- Died 1884. 


10 () 


More than a Hint 


The WELDON and KELLY Co. 

’Most all good Pittsburgers know, 

Have long done good Plumbing — * 

Their business keeps humming — 

And to them by all means you should go. 

When ready that new house to Plumb, 
They will make you a bid for a sum 
You’ll accept, and ne’er rue. 

For their Workmanship true 
With it’s Merit will please all Mdio come. 


If there is anything new and good, we have it. 


The Weldon and Kelly Co., 

No . 305 Wood Street. 


Estimates Furnished. 


Jos. A. Weldon, High School ’8E 


The Best Only. 

The yield of the choicest of dairies 
That makes toothsome the staff of life. 

Good Butter. 

Sweet, and always fit for the table, 

. . is sold by . , 

McCann & Co , 

Nos. 401 Market St. and 410 Market St. 

(Cor. Fourth Ave.) 

Eatable Eggs, Choicest Cheese, Proper Poultry Properly Dressed. 

Teas, Coffees and Dried Fruits. 

Quality" the Best at Prices Always Pleasing. 

That’s All. 


107 





lOS 


BALDWIN UNIVERSITY. NEW MAIN BUILDING 


Sterilizing, Deodorizing and Disinfecting Specialized 


Telephone 2SSG Court 

Ebon C. Chamberlain 

Sanitarian 

X20 Fourth Ave. Pittsburgli 
Ferguson Block 

Estimates of Cost, and Consultation by Phone, Mail 
or in Person, Free and Solicited ::::::: 

All work is subject Bacteriological Test by The Pittsburgh 
Bureau of Health, to insure its effectiveness : : : : : 


COPPER 

IS, AND ALWAYS HAS BEEN, INDISPENSABLE. 

THE ALASKA COPPER COMPANY’S 

FAMOUS MINES 

are putting out ore daily that contains over 20 per cent, 
pure Copper. The Alaska Copper Co. is not a pros- 
pecting company. It has 360 acres of the richest copper 
veins in the world. With a three-furnace smelter in op- 
eration, and by reason of a really marvelous water power, 
the mines and smelters are operated on a scale of economy 
only possible where the aid of nature can be secured. A 
few shares of this active mining industry are still for sale. 
They are offered now at $15 each, (par value $25). Div- 
idends will be paid this coming summer. The plant is 
in full operation. 

THE ALASKA COPPER COMPANY, 

MA.T. K. W. A. SIMMONS, Resident Director. 

Both Phones. 318 Lewis Block, PITTSBURG, PA. 


109 




LADIES’ HALL, BALDWIN 


(Old Building:.) 


UNIVERSITY. 


110 



DINING Suggests 

D I M L I N G 

Largest Ice Cream and Lunch Parlors in the State 

Meals at All Hours during the Day Try Our Candies 

409 - 411 MARKET STREET 


A. H. JOHNSON 


005 Grant Street 
PITTSBURG, PA. 


BOOMER COAL AND GAS FURNACES 


HEATING AND VENTILATING A SPECIALTY 

TIN, COPPER AND SHEET IRON WORK OF EVERY DESCRIPTION 



The Point is Right Here 
923 Wood Street 
WILKINSBURG, PA. 

GEO. F. FELGER 

MERCHANT TAILOR 


Style, Fit, Workmanship, 
Quality and Price 
RIGHT 


Frankstown and Hamilton 
Avenue cars pass the door 





OLD M. E. CHURCH, BEREA, O. 
Opposite the Old Campus. 


New Books, 

“My High School Days” 
“Forty Years in Pittsburg” 

Out Soon. 

See Announcements Later. 


112 


Over 

300 

Millions 

Gallons 

ELAINE 

sold 
in 30 
years. 

V 


ELAINE 

cannot 

be 

improved 

upon. 



/^ i.PRE M I U.M,; ' 

/ ^ CENTEN N IftL 

^ . QOLDiiyiEDA L O 
PITTSBURG EXPOSITION 
AWARDED TO^ 

ELA I N 

L THE'FAMILYSAFEeUARD; 


\VARDEN &0XNARD 

V PITTSBURG. ^ 


Can be 

burned in 
any 

Pet r o 1 e 11 m 
Lamp. 


A positive 
protection 
from lamp 
explosions. 


Makes the 
safest and 
best light 
known. 



OLD HULET HALL, BALDWIN UNIVERSITY. 




(STUDENTEN HEIMATH). 

Old Baldwin Hall of 
GERMAN WALLACE COLLEGE, 
Berea, Ohio. 

A Memory Now. 


114 



z 

t—t 

< 

s 

sO 


z 

o 

Ut 

♦ 

< 

0 ^ 


GOOD HEAD- 

WAY 


Is always obtained by 
[also maintained] 


JUDICIOUS AND PERSISTENT 

ADVERTISING. 


1507 

I 

Forbes Street 




Author Publisher Ad Writer 


JUN 10 I9o<| 





